


Come Undone

by claudia6913



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia6913/pseuds/claudia6913
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hellmouth is closed, LA is no longer in danger.  What is a Witch and a vampire with a soul to do?  *Two Years Post Not Fade Away*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I own nothing of these characters, only the words in between. Those characters belong to Joss and co.

**Chapter 1**

What do you do when everything you have lived for, everything you have built your entire life around, crumbles to the ground? What are you supposed to do when you no longer have to live on that edge of life and death, when you no longer have to live with the fears, the nightmares? How are you supposed to live in relative safety when for...well, more years than you could count, it was not always that way? Years of fighting, years of barely surviving one danger, only to face several others takes its toll on a person…even the strongest of people break. They cannot handle it anymore, and the world ending no longer seems like that big of a deal. 

This was how Willow felt when she heard about the apocalypse in Los Angeles, Angel's city. It was just one more apocalypse. She had survived her share and nearly caused one as well. She had not wanted to join in another, had not wanted to see any of her friends get hurt or die. 

Things had become too much. Too much pain and loss in too short of a time. Having barely survived the destruction of Sunnydale, she was trying to put that nightmare behind her, bury it deep inside. So, she ignored it. It was easy enough. Don't answer the phone; don't open mail unless it's bills. Simple as that. And it worked...probably a little too well. 

By the time any news reached her, the situation would be, more than likely over and resolved when she got a phone call or letter. Which was fine with Willow. She had enough of death and Hellmouths and everything that went with them.

Maybe that was why she had chosen the secluded seaside village. Easy, simple, and quiet. They knew nothing of Hellmouths here - knew nothing of things that went bump in the night. Only the soft sway of the sparse sea grass and the gentle crash of the waves on the beach were heard in the night. Willow loved this small town in North Carolina. It was far away from everything and nothing like where she had been raised.

It was just what she needed.

After Kennedy's death...she was not able to do it any more. The brutality with which her second love had been dispatched tore Willow apart and broke her down. There was barely anything left to bury, let alone grieve over. Willow had not stayed for Kennedy’s funeral; her heart was broke. Pretty words and talk of an afterlife to come would not help Willow, so she packed what little she deemed necessary and left without a word.

It had been hard enough for Willow to deal with Tara's death, adding on the fact that they had not moved her from the Sunnydale Cemetery. Willow felt that loss almost as keenly as she had Tara's actual death. She no longer had a place to go, a marker, a reminder...just her memories and a picture she had saved.

Willow still talked to Tara, and to Kennedy, usually when she was cleaning late at night, or before she opened her store for the day. She told them of the happenings in her day and let them know she was happy, well, as happy as she was able to be, and that she was taking it one day at a time. This worked for Willow, making her happy, and she felt like she was not forgetting her two departed loves even as she chose to forget everything else.

"Morning!” Willow called out when she heard the bell ring for the door. She had opened hours ago, but this was the first customer of the day. The tourist season was over, leaving just the few inhabitants of the Outer Banks that roughed it year round. But, it was not a customer.

"Hey Willow," Susan said, coming up to where Willow was checking inventory at a small table. "Whatcha got there?"

"A new shipment of books, some rare ones I've been waiting a while for. What are you up to today, Susan? Where are the little ones?"

"Oh them? Sent them away. Their grandmother took them, thank God. Jason was driving me up the wall and April wasn't helping. Don't ever have kids."

Willow laughed and shook her head but she knew better. Susan loved her kids and Willow loved them too. She wanted kids of her own...but not yet. Someday she would find a way.

They were close in age, both twenty-something, and already Susan had two kids and was contemplating a third. But, that was Susan. She was fresh and clean, with sun-bleached hair that would turn a nice golden brown in the winter. She had large brown eyes that were curious and saw everything...which was probably how Susan could handle two kids and think about another. She was taller than Willow, but only by an inch or so.

"Oh no. You've got that wistful look in your eyes. You're thinking about it aren't you? What have I done?” Susan said jokingly. She placed a hand at her heart and faked a swoon, landing in the chair next to Willow's. They both laughed and Willow shook her head.

"No, not really. I'll stick to just playing with yours," Willow said. She loved Susan's kids. They were not as bad as Susan made them sound sometimes, they were simply kids. Jason had recently had his 8th birthday and April's fifth was coming up soon. Willow wanted to get something for her, something special. Maybe she could find her favorite children’s book and give it to April. It was a thought, and Willow made a mental note to look for it online later that night.

"They love you, you know," Susan said, breaking through Willow's thoughts.

"I know," Willow said, smiling softly. She remembered being their age. Willow had been so shy, nothing like the outgoing April. Only Xander...she sighed. Willow had left him, left them all - the people that had been closest to her - for a new life, one that didn't revolve around Slaying. That was the price Willow had paid to remove herself from that lifestyle…leaving behind everyone she had loved and considered a friend.

Even in the little town of Kitty Hawk she only saw Slayers every once in a while come through her shop. And they were usually out-of-towners. A card with the Watcher's Council and a typed letter was always discretely slipped to them. Willow could not help doing at least that much. Even though North Carolina, let alone Kitty Hawk, was not on a Hellmouth, vampires were everywhere and they knew what a Slayer was. Willow was just trying to keep them alive...without getting involved. Every time she met a Slayer, she prayed to the Goddess to keep them unharmed and see them to the Watcher's Council. It was all she could do, all she _could_ handle doing.

"Earth to Willow," Susan said, snapping her fingers in front of Willow's face.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I sort of-"

"Zoned?” Susan said, cutting Willow off. "Yeah, I saw that. What's up? Are you okay?" 

Should she tell her? What would 'normal' Susan think of her friend if she told her the truth? Told her everything about Hellmouths, Slayers, lesbian lovers, vampires, demons...no. Willow couldn't.

"Just remembering is all. Sorry," Willow said.

"One of these days you'll tell me who he was," Susan said, smiling when Willow looked shocked. "A girl knows, you know."

Susan winked and stood up to look at the contents of the box on the table. She began pulling out books, stacking them so it would be easier for Willow to inventory what was sent. She had hired Susan the first summer Willow was there. She had underestimated the interest in an occult shop in the South. It was nothing like the Magic Box used to be. Willow's shop dealt more in rare books and a bit of the occult, but it was enough to have more people stopping in than she had planned for. Susan had been a godsend and Willow had hired her the third time she came in the store. 

Willow had more than enough money to hire someone, and even now, she thought about hiring someone part time during the winter so she could take a trip or two, but the store was part of Willow's routine and she really would not give it up for anything. Igneous was about the only thing that kept her going some days, and now, looking back, she was thankful for the little store and the little rural town.

"Why do you have diaries?” Susan asked, pulling out three large leather-bound books. Willow recognized them immediately and her anger flared.

_'How dare he!'_ Willow thought. She took the books from Susan's hands and noticed her friend’s concerned look.

"Sorry, it's just a mistake, possibly an expensive one. Tends to make one upset, you know?” Willow said, covering her angry scowl with a soft laugh. Susan nodded but still looked a bit concerned. Willow walked back to the back storeroom and placed them on the stairs that led up to her apartment above the store. She would figure out what to do with them later. Right then, she needed to calm down. Willow took a few deep breaths, trying to control her anger. But, it wasn't entirely anger. Simply seeing those books forced her to remember things that she had tried so hard not to think about for over a year now.

Finally, Willow came out from the storeroom all smiles, and although Susan did not look like she was buying the act, Willow kept up the charade anyways. She had to. If she let it affect her, it would take months to repair the wall she had built around her memories and emotions.

"So, what are you doing for the winter?” Willow asked, trying to change the subject.

Susan gave her one last look before shrugging and saying, "I don't know. Steve wants to leave the Banks. They are talking about some bad storms before winter truly hits. I don't think it's too bad of an idea. You could come with us, Willow. We'll rent a nice big house inland. It'll be fun and you can spend Christmas with us!"

Willow smiled, but said, "I'll think about it."

"Come on. You say that every time. Just this once," Susan said, begging. 

"We'll see," Willow said. She liked the idea, really, she did, but that would mean leaving the comfort of her home, of her shop, and she was not sure she was ready to take that step yet. Willow had weathered quite a few storms in her little shop/apartment, with the help of a bit of magic. Just the thought of not sitting by the fire alone, reading, filled her with an almost icy cold dread. She was not able explain why, but it did. 

"One of these days I'm going to crack you," Susan said, shaking her delicate finger at Willow. "But, I have to go pick up the rugrats. I'm sure they've driven my mother up the wall by now and I want to get back before dark."

"She loves them and you know it," Willow said, laughing. 

"I know. I'll talk to you later, okay? Do you want some help tomorrow? I can come in for a few hours," Susan said, gathering her purse and coat.

"Not tomorrow, but what about Thursday? I want to inventory what I have for the insurance before winter storms hit."

"Yeah, they'll hit, but I bet they miss your store _again_ ," Susan said, shaking her head. "I'll be here. See you then! Bye!"

"Bye! Tell the kids and Steve hi for me."

The jingle of the bells on the door sounded as Susan left. Sighing, Willow dropped down in the chair and looked beyond the store, looked inward. She liked Susan, really she did. Susan was energetic, smart, and loved books almost as much as Willow did. But... 

_'But what?'_ Willow thought. _'Why am I so relieved when she leaves?'_

She had no answer she realized, or, at least not one she wanted to analyze too closely. Something about self-imposed isolation...but no, she did not want to think about it. Instead, Willow lost herself in checking the books she received that day off her list. It was cathartic and she soon lost herself in the shelving and pricing. 

*********

Dusk settled quickly and, as it always seemed to do, brought a chill to the air that had Willow shivering a little. There was always something about twilight that sent a small sliver of fear burning through her.

Vampires, and demons, and things without names - live with them long enough, and you expect them. All the time. Every night. Like clockwork. It always took Willow a minute to convince herself that she was not in any immediate danger. Even still, she had to check all of her hidden wards, every nook and cranny...everything. She lived above her shop for a reason. No vampire could enter her home. She had made sure not to leave a welcome mat or anything that could be misconstrued as an invitation. Paranoia? No, more like conditioning.

Finally, she and the shop were settled for the night. Even with the darkness and its inevitable hint of fear, Willow was proud of herself. She always took a moment to look over her shop and thank the goddess for what she had. Turning, she went back into the storeroom and to the staircase that lead up to her apartment. 

Willow stopped dead in her tracks. The Watcher's Diaries sat on the stairs. She stared at them, willed them to go away. Willow had completely forgotten about them, and now they lay there, waiting for her.

Every now and then, Willow would contact Giles for some books. She tried not to contact him often, or for any magical books, and with this last shipment, she had asked for an occult book...Egyptian worship, to be exact. This would teach her to ask anything of him again. 

Willow picked up the books and stormed upstairs, dropping the old leather-bound diaries onto her small dinning room table. She quickly went to the bathroom and began her normal routine. Routines kept her calm, kept her from allowing her anger to surface. Blaming Giles was futile until she knew what the diaries held. Could be they contained exactly what she had requested, Egyptian worship and mythology. 

Taking a deep breath, Willow ran her bath, placing vanilla scented oil into the water and a capful of her favorite bubble bath. Over the past few years as a shopkeeper, she had gotten used to standing for hours and helping customers, but sometimes her muscles still protested. This nightly bath helped her to relax and ease the strain in her back and legs. It always left her feeling rejuvenated, ready to read by the fire.

Willow bathed at her leisure before getting out and slipping into her favorite flannel pajamas. It was not exactly cold enough for them yet, but they were comfortable and familiar and she needed that right now.

Stacking the logs in the fireplace, Willow lit it with a bit of kindling, easing the fire until it was just the right size. Not too big, but enough to send out a pleasant warmth. Her chair, plush and comfortable, sat near to the fireplace, but she was still able to look out the window to watch the moon and waves.

Finally, if reluctantly, Willow walked to her dinning room table and looked at the books. She stared at them as if she expected them to get up on their own, walk around and do tricks. They did not; instead, they sat there like normal books. However, something about them bothered Willow. They looked familiar. She would have known what they were even if Susan had not said anything. Willow was also pretty sure she knew just whose diaries they were.

No, she could not read them – did not want to read them. Willow was intimately familiar with the events catalogued in those books. She did not need to read them to know what happened during those seven years of her life.

That night, she refused to take a trip down memory lane. She knew that lane, knew it was paved in pain, misery, and only a few good times. How had she survived those years? How did she still come out ahead when so many people had died? What was so special about her that she survived?

Maybe there was not anything special about her and it was just fate. However, Willow did not want to believe that either. If it was because of fate that she was still alive, then it was fate that Tara was dead, that Kennedy had fallen in battle, and Willow could not handle that either. Instead, she chose to blame the situation. If Tara had not been included into the group, if Willow had not activated the Slayers, if she had not pulled Buffy from Heaven...so many ifs. 

Tears welled in Willow's eyes and she went to sit in front of the fire, staring into its red and gold flames. Somehow, it had all been her fault, one way or another. She had not been able to save Tara; she had not been able to save Kennedy. And now she did not have the energy to save herself.


	2. Two

**Chapter 2**

"Why do you continue to search for this girl?” Illyria asked. Once again, they were in a dingy hotel, the windows carefully curtained to block out the sun, the carpet threadbare. She looked around, noting how similar they were starting to look with the pastels long faded by the sun in certain spots, and the stains covering just about everything. She would never have put up with this if she had still had her godhead. It was beneath her even now, but she put up with it...for now.

"'Ve told you," Spike said. He sat at a small table, that was probably supposed to be a breakfast nook or the semblance of one, and studied a map. 

Spike had been searching for Willow for months now. He had considered going to Giles, or even Buffy, but he did not think either one of them would have told him anything. Besides, it had been Dawn who had asked him, begged, and pleaded with him to find her. It had been almost two years since they had seen or heard from her and Dawn was worried. She had told Spike about Kennedy, about Willow’s utter grief and then her eventual disappearance.

Death was never pretty, that much Spike knew. He had handed it out over the years, over and over again, and not once was it a masterpiece or a thing of beauty. And, to lose not just one, but two people you loved...he couldn't imagine. How, though, could she just cut herself off like that? It didn't seem like her, or at least, not like the Willow Spike remembered.

"Yes, but I do not believe you. There is more to this, I think, than you are saying."

"That right," Spike said, getting irritated. "Why do you bloody well insist on taggin' along, then?"

"You amuse me."

"Well, this circus is closed. Bloody shove off, yeah? Not 'ere for your amusement."

"I do not wish to leave."

"Argh!" Spike cried out, shoving out of his seat and up to the blue god herself. She was maddening at times, hilarious at others, and even at times sweet, but right now, she was just pissing him off.

"I stay not just because you amuse me," Illyria said, trying for truth. His reaction was a bit surprised, but he hid it quickly enough with indifference. This was beginning to tire quickly for her. He guarded his emotions so closely that they were actually visible to all. He loved the girl he sought, whether he knew it or not. 

"Whatever. Stay, go...don't care 'nymore."

"You care too much, vampire. More than you were meant to care. I do not know how you survive with so much raw emotion sitting in the open such as it is," Illyria said, cocking her head to the side just a bit. She searched his face, his eyes. Over the past few years, she had gotten to know Spike. He had fought for her when Angel and Gunn had deemed her useless, he had argued for her when they refused to allow her take Wesley's watch. He had kept them from attempting to destroy her completely.

No one had understood her need of the watch; no one understood why that object, if nothing else. Spike had, though. He had understood without needing to ask, had known without knowing a thing.

Illyria realized a while ago that she owed this vampire something, if not her life, then her friendship at least. He had given up much when he stood against Angel and the human. Illyria did not understand why Spike had stayed with them. They were worthless, selfish, and unworthy of him, but he had stayed, despite her protests and arguments.

"Why are you here? Why do you bloody keep following me? What is it you are lookin' for? What is it you expect from me?" Spike asked, falling back into his chair. He was tired and stressed. He did not hate Illyria, and actually, he did not mind her tagging along. It was her questions, her need to know things she did not quite understand yet. Usually he sat and tried to explain concepts to her, but tonight he lacked the energy required for it and he was taking his anger and frustration out on her. He tried to calm down, taking a few unneeded breaths. It was not Illyria's fault, and more often than not, she helped him out, made him think through things more thoroughly.

"I do not know," Illyria answered simply, truthfully. She stood over him, not imposing, but not moving either. This...fascination of his with the girl, Willow, was something she did not understand.

"You know," Spike said, a sardonic smile curving the side of his lips. "You always know, don't you? Always know what you’re doin', why you’re doin' it, even if you don't understand it."

"Yes, this is true," Illyria said, nodding shortly. "I follow you because I do not understand your quest for this girl."

"Join the club, Pet," Spike said, laughing at himself.

"Now it is you who lies."

"We're even then," Spike said, turning back to the map. This was a conversation he did not want to have with himself, let alone the blue god. For right now, the fact that Dawn had asked him herself, was enough. That she feared for Willow's life, that she cared for the woman she considered a sister...it was all he needed right now to justify this search.

The call he had gotten, or rather, the call Angel had gotten from Dawn had been a surprise to say the least. Especially since Spike had answered the phone. It had seemed the Watcher had not deemed his coming back to life worthy enough to tell Dawn, or anyone else it had seemed.

It had taken nearly an hour, and much pacing by Angel, to get Dawn to calm down enough to tell them why she had called. Angel had been more than upset when Dawn requested she talk to Spike, to ask him directly. When Angel would not hand over the phone, Dawn demanded, and even when that did not work, she threatened with Buffy. A low blow, true, but Spike could feel himself flush with pride...and just a little guilt. But mostly pride. He was pleased to find that Dawn had grown beautifully, despite being a key and not having been born, but forged.

"It does not appear as though she wishes to be found," Illyria said, now sitting on the creaky bed. She sat as though that were the last place she wanted to, and honestly, it was, but she was there and had to make do.

"She probably doesn't," Spike said, tracing a finger over the map. He'd gotten a lead the other day from a semi-reliable source. Willow was a powerful witch, and even shielded, she still managed to send off warning signals within the vampire.

Spike recalled the feel of her power after his trip to Africa. She was almost a beacon, too powerful to ignore, too dangerous to approach. It was an odd mixture that constantly left him feeling unbalanced whenever he was near her. That, if nothing else, had him steering clear of her whenever possible.

"Yet you search for anyway, possibly against her wishes. That is illogical," Illyria said, watching Spike closely. She saw the stress this situation caused him, but she did not see that moment as a good time to stop her questioning. He would not stop for her, so she would not stop for him.

"You loved him," Spike said, watching her fondle the watch on her wrist. It was oversized and clearly a man's watch, but she wore it, constantly.

"That was not an emotion I felt towards him," Illyria said. She pulled her hand off the watch. The vampire's words ringing through her.

"Wasn't askin', Luv," Spike said knowingly.

"The shell loved him, she cared for him." The words were spoken blandly, with as little emotion as possible. Illyria felt that emotions as strong as love, grief, and guilt were nothing more than tools of a person's demise, human or otherwise. She did not want to perish, so, such things were hidden, and hidden well. She had never told anyone that Wesley's watch had stopped at the exact moment of his death, or that it was with that hand that he had caressed the cheek of the shell's form.

"And you feel it still?"

"Not as much as before, when he was alive."

"Then why the watch? Seems you'd only want that if you felt something for him."

"Love is a weakness and I am not weak. Wesley was good to me and this watch stopped at the time of his death. He was noble."

"You've a lot to learn if you think love's a weakness."

"And where has it gotten you, vampire?” Illyria asked, motioning around them. The dirty hotel showed even more gruesome it seemed just by merely mentioning it.

"Never said it was easy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

They were close, Spike sensed it. It was like a tension that went through him, made him bounce on the balls of his feet. The kind of edginess that made him ready to fight, ready for some kind of action. There was no calm before the storm with Spike, there was nothing like that. Pure energy ran through him.

Another town, another demon-infested bar...it all began to blend together after a while, and this; well, this was no different. They were now on the east coast of the United States. Last anyone had known, Willow had been living in Washington State after coming back from Brazil. Then...she was gone. They were now an entire continent away from where she had last been seen, but Spike knew they were close, they just had to be. 

"Talk to him, yeah?” Spike said, pointing to a demon walking their way. Illyria shrugged without emotion. She was not sure anyone here was worthy enough to talk to, but since Spike thought it necessary, she would at least go with him. 

"Seen a girl, witch, 'bout yeh high?” Spike asked, holding his hand about where he remembered Willow's height used to be. The demon scoffed and tried to push past Spike and Illyria, but they held their ground.

"Do not toy with us, lower being," Illyria said, placing a hand on the demon's shoulder. She squeezed and the demon cried out. "Do you know of a witch with red hair?"

"Witch you said? Only witch 'round here's out on the banks," the demon said quickly. He fell to his knees when Illyria let him go, rubbing his shoulder where she had grabbed him. He looked Illyria up and down before turning to the sound of Spike’s voice.

"That so?” Spike asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. There had been leads like this one, but they had not really led anywhere. This one might be no different from the rest.

"Yeah, powerful lil' thing too. Why would you want to go looking for her?" the demon asked. He did not know these two newcomers, but it was obvious to him that they were not from around these parts. You did not go courting trouble by looking for the witch, it was common knowledge, but if they wanted it, he would give it to them. 

"Doesn't matter to you, mate, just want to find her is all," Spike said. His hopes were walking away with his caution, leaving him practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you when your woman comes back carryin' your ashes," the demon said, a half laugh falling from his lips.

"I am not his...woman," Illyria said with disgust. She was not owned by anyone or anything and took great offense to the demon’s suggestion.

"Wanna be mine?" the demon asked, turning to smile at Illyria.

"Can I kill him now? He is of no further use to us. His death will please me," Illyria said, looking down on the demon with antipathy. Her fingers itched to dig inside his wasted form and she was awash with pleasure as she anticipated the kill.

"Sure," Spike said, lighting up.

The screams rang through the darkened alley and no one came to help their comrade, if he had any friends at all. Illyria killed him with a quickness Spike could appreciate, but the blood was splattered everywhere, in her hair, on her clothes, on her face. There was a time, which now seemed so long ago now, that Spike would have found that beautiful, though, a part of him, one he kept hidden and locked away, gloried in the sight. She seemed so natural in that condition, covered in blood and entrails, towering over the mass that had once been the demon. Illyria turned and looked at him, a small quirk of a smile on her face, just a hint at happiness. It was rare he got to see that look, and rarer yet that it was without blood.

“Looks like we’re goin’ to the Outer Banks, Pet,” Spike said, tossing his cigarette. Illyria nodded.

“The Witch will be most displeased by our arrival,” Illyria said, cocking her head to the side as she walked over the corpse at her feet.

“An’ what if she is?” Spike asked, walking up beside her. “You don’t know Red like I do.” The short laugh, if it could be called that, made Spike look sideways at Illyria. “Didn’t think I’d told a joke.”

“No, you did not, but there is much…humor, as you say, in your statement.”

“How’s that, then, Pet?”

“You say you know her better than I. While true, you were acquainted with her far longer; the shell knew her, spoke to her. You did not know her, merely knew of her.”

“That’s not true,” Spike retorted. Illyria was wrong about that. He _had_ known her. Willow and Spike had spoken on several occasions, not to mention that one time he had kidnapped her or the other time he had tried to bite her. There had been other times; he was sure, during patrols, for instance, that they had spoken. Willow had, after all, stopped him from staking himself…and then he had proceeded to rip her self-confidence and trust in her friends to shreds. But, you had to know someone to do that.

“As you wish, vampire,” Illyria said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Willow sat meditating while the sun rose into the sky, greeting the day as she had done ever since settling in Kitty Hawk. It was her daily ritual, and one she cherished. Slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled as the sun gradually filled her room with a warm glow. Silently she greeted Tara and Kennedy, letting them know her plans for that day. It made her smile, sad though it was, to think they were listening, ready to begin the day with her.

Moving to the kitchen, Willow busied herself with making breakfast, some toast and a fresh grapefruit, while she waited for the water for her tea to boil. She tried not to think of the first time she had had freshly brewed tea. However, try as she might to ignore the memory, her mind brought forth the image of Giles, leaning against the table in the library, sipping from a cup and offering her some. She missed him, the way he always made her feel important, always made her feel loved. He was like a father to her and if there was anything she regretted the most, it was not being brave enough to tell Giles she was leaving…for good.

The whistle of the kettle brought Willow out of her musings. Pouring herself a cup, she took it and her plate to the table.

‘Will it never end?’ Willow thought, looking at the diaries she had left there the night before. She debated moving to her chair to eat, but avoiding them would only work for so long. Pushing them to the side, she set her tea and breakfast down and pulled her laptop to her. She had not looked for April’s present last night like she had planned.

Booting up the computer, she searched for Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. It had been her favorite book as a child and Willow was sure April would adore it. She wished she could obtain her copy, but Willow was not sure if her parents had kept it when they had called for their things from Sunnydale. Somehow, her parents had gotten wind of the massive evacuation of the town. When Willow had gone a few days later to pick up a few things, she had found an empty house. They had not even left a forwarding address. That loss, however, was not as great as when she had found her things, rumpled, and tossed in a corner, looted, it had looked.

Willow put in her order for the children’s book. She hated that those memories flooded back. It seemed the dam she had built around her memories was breaking, and she blamed the Watcher’s Diaries she had received the other day. They had made a crack in her defenses, making her remember, and now it threatened to all come flooding back in waves big enough to drown her.

“No, I won’t let you do this to me,” Willow said to the books, as if they had had ears to hear or thought to motivate them.

Finding a box, Willow took the books and shoved them in there, closing and taping the lid. She did not see the small piece of paper that fell to the floor as she picked the box up and hauled it down to the storeroom. Out of sight, out of mind, or so the saying went.

**********

The day passed normal enough, slow, with only a few regulars to stop by. It gave her time to do the inventory a bit more and catch up on the books. These were the days she liked the most, the ones where nothing demanded her attention, and she could relax into an easy pace.

Bells chimed on the door and Willow turned in time to see April running through the shop towards her. She laughed, kneeling down to receive the hug. The girl hit her and Willow fell to her bottom, arms full of a squirmy four, almost five, year old bundle of giggles.

“April! What did I tell you about running in the shop?” Susan cried out, unable to stop the girl.

April looked ashamedly at Willow, saying, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetie,” Willow said kissing her on the cheek. April giggled again and climbed off Willow, walking back to her mother. Standing up, Willow walked over to Susan.

“I thought I told you Thursday. Isn’t not Thursday, is it?” Willow asked confused. She hoped she had not missed a day. Sometimes she got so caught up in her work that she would forget what day it was. It was rare, but it happened.

"No," Susan said, laughing. "It's Wednesday, Willow. But, Steve found a winter home inland. That's what I stopped by to tell you."

She tried to be just a little tactful about it, but after almost two years of knowing and working with Willow, Susan found that tact was not always the way to go. Sometimes with Willow, she had to be blunt, and that worked fine for her. However, when she mentioned the winter home, she saw Willow tense up. Not a good sign. Susan was worried about Willow, cared about her like a sister. It could not be good for her to stay here cooped up in the shop all winter long while all of the other people on the Outer Banks packed up and left. Susan imagined it had to be a very lonely time indeed.

"Oh, that's good," Willow said carefully. She knew just where Susan was going and she wished her friend would not. Her good intentions were understood by Willow, but she wished Susan would understand that she just...she just could not leave. It would be like leaving a piece of her behind. Not only that, but also what would she do in their house, with their kids. Willow was not technically a part of their family and she would feel like an intruder.

"Yeah, Steve went to go see it yesterday. He said it has a nice large, fenced in yard, an attached garage and an attic that had been made into an apartment. Complete with microwave, and a little mini-fridge, and everything. We were thinking, if you wanted, you could take the attic room. That way you could have your own space."

There, she had said it. Now, Susan would just wait for the inevitable no that was sure to follow and go tell Steve the news.

"I could come visit you more, Willow," April said, looking up at her. "We could play with my dolls and have tea."

"I don't know, sweetie," Willow said, stroking the small girl's hair. She looked up to Susan who shrugged as if to say 'I didn't put her up to this'.

"I won't bug you that much," April said, her voice small and her eyes pleading. "And mommy would like you to come."

"From the mouths’ of babes," Susan said smiling. She took a hold of April's hand and pulled her up, setting the girl on her hip. "Look, you don't have to."

"I'll think about it," Willow said. There was no harm in thinking about it, she reasoned. The self-imposed isolation, however punctuated with occasional human interaction, was not healthy for her and she knew it.

"Ok," Susan said, cautiously. "I'll let Steve know."

"Don't look at me like I've grown a second head," Willow said forcing a laugh. She had to remind herself that she _was not_ on a Hellmouth and a second head would not just - appear - out of nowhere. 

"Sorry, Willow. I just, well, honestly didn't expect you to say you would come. But really, I'm glad you're at least thinking about it."

They smiled at each other and April wormed her way out of her mother's arms to go and hug Willow around the legs.

"Promise to be good the whole time you're there," April said.

"I know you will sweetie," Willow said. Silently, she wondered if she could do it, leave the safe haven she had built up around herself. There would be so much she would have to bring. Herbs and books were definitely needed to protect the house and the surrounding area. They did not know about vampires though. How could she tell them not to invite anyone inside of the house without telling them about vampires. Then, once she got into that conversation, how did she keep from spilling everything? 

"We're going down this weekend, if you want to come along and check out the house. You don't have to stay for the winter with us, but I will _not_ take no for an answer on this weekend," Susan said, bringing Willow out of her thoughts. She stood, hands on hips, and a resolve face to rival Willow's any day.

"But, it's a weekend, people will -"

"Not be stopping in," Susan said, cutting off Willow's excuse. "Honey, they stopped coming in on weekends two weekends ago. The tourists have all gone home, and just us lonely ruffians come by."

"You're not ruffians," Willow said, shaking her head. Susan was not going to let up.

"Good, so it's settled, we'll stop and pick you up about five-thirty Friday night."

"But-"

"Oh, and don't worry about furniture and things, it's all there."

"Susan, I-"

"It's so beautiful, Willow. I know you'll love it. The yard is massive, and there's even a little apple orchard behind it. Someone else's property, but the broker told Steve we could pick whatever apples were left over. We could be in apple pies all winter long."

"That's, really, wow, but-"

"Oh, damn! I'm sorry, Willow, I've got to run and pick up Jason. See you tomorrow."

With that, Susan and little April were gone, and Willow was left standing alone in her shop, her head spinning. Susan could out-talk her; out-maneuver her in any conversation, without even batting an eyelash. It was impressive and slightly disconcerting because Willow was fairly certain she had said she would think about going with them this winter. And knowing Susan, that meant yes.

Sighing, Willow found the nearest seat and fell into it, groaning as she laid her head on her arms. She was losing her touch. The old Willow would have seen that coming. And poor April, she had been a pawn in Susan's evil plans - with those big, brown, shining eyes and that soft voice promising tea parties.

Well, she would just have to tell Susan no. There was no way she could leave the safety of her home. Not only was it safe, but it was hers and she was comfortable there. Willow knew where the towels were if she ran out. She knew just how to turn the water so it was the perfect temperature every time. Even still, she knew she was being neurotic about it. But, it was not that it was different, or not hers...how would she explain the spells she would have to do around the house? How would she tell Susan about vampires, and invitations, and not to make a wish, and...

No, Willow could not do it; she could not leave the comfort and safety of her own home.

Now, she had to tell Susan that without going into the why's and how's of it.

**********

They had driven in silence, neither one having anything to say to the other. Spike smoked one cigarette right after another, annoyed with both himself and the blue god next to him. She did not have to tear him apart like that, dig into him, and rip out what she found. He did not do it to her, tear apart her reasoning like that. He let Illyria keep some of her delusions, knowing himself that sometimes they were the only things that kept you going when all else was lost.

Silently, Spike wondered just what would drive Willow so far away from everything and everyone she had ever known. The East Coast was like the end of the world to Spike. Not that the East Coast was bad, but when you considered where everyone else had ended up, to find Willow there, of all places, so withdrawn...he just wanted to make sure she was alright. That was it. If she had gone to this extent to keep away from the others, then he would only do the very basics of what Dawn had asked him to do. Spike would find out if she was all right, healthy and happy, report back to Dawn what he found, then leave Willow in peace. It seemed that was what she wanted.

Finally, they were able to make it onto the Outer Banks. Crossing the bridge, they were able to see all the way across the Banks to the Ocean on the other side. The sight was beautiful and even Illyria found herself somewhat captivated by the sight.

"Much has changed since my reign," Illyria said softly, as the Atlantic Ocean disappeared from view. There was no bitterness in her voice, only appreciation for the view she had the chance to glance. She told the vampire once in one of their many conversations that there were things in this world that confused her and therefore made her angry because she could not yet comprehend them.

"Odd not to see humans in chains, is it?” Spike asked facetiously.

"You would still be upset, vampire," Illyria said, looking over at him. His jaw worked furiously, and constant muscle twitch could be seen. "You hold things in too long, things which do not matter. I do not see the purpose of it."

"It takes a bit more than eyes to see it, Pet. Your problem is you're not lookin' hard enough."

"It is because you do not open yours that you fail."

"Look, let's just find Red, yeah? Then we can bloody go the four corners of this soddin' Earth and leave each other 'lone," Spike said. He did not know how she did it, but she had, once again, made him feel in the wrong. Not even Angelus...well, no, that was not true either. Spike thought she might actually enjoy Angelus' company more then she did his.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Spike pulled over soon after crossing the bridge to the Outer Banks and took out a map. One main road ran from end to end across the Banks. The Banks stretched from North Carolina to South Carolina with a few bridges crossing what was not connected by land. He had no clue where to start, no idea where Willow was. They had not taken the time to ask the loathsome demon exactly which _part_ of the Banks Willow was on. Sighing, he folded the map and turned left, deciding to find a place to stop. Dawn was coming soon, and as much as greeting the sun seemed fine at the minute, Spike did not think it would accomplish much.

"Time t' suit up, Pet," Spike said, pulling into a bed and breakfast. It was the only thing they had come across that even had the semblance of looking like a place to stay. Most everything else looked closed or shut up for the winter.

"I do not enjoy doing this," Illyria said, turning to look at Spike. "It is deplorable to take the form of the shell, beneath me."

"Yeah, well, 'member what happened last time you didn't? Don't fancy runnin' again and havin' to stay the day in the car."

"I did not mind it."

"Wasn't you that was gettin' your nose singed each time you bloody well moved," Spike said, unknowingly rubbing his nose, remembering that day.

"Fine, if it will hold your tongue," Illyria said. She closed her eyes and called forth the form of her shell, the blue in her hair, skin, and eyes melting away to the pale cream color of Fred's. Her armor disappeared only to be replaced with the softer cotton of Fred's normal apparel.

The change always shook Spike to his core. He had known that soft face and those brown eyes. He had flirted with that girl, made those pink lips quirk up in a smile and those cheeks blush. He still could not believe she was gone - only to be replaced with a god that liked nothing and sought pleasure in only death and destruction. Illyria and Fred were complete polar opposites - death and life - innocence and corruption. While, as a vampire Spike could appreciate Illyria and her goals in life, the soul within him cried for Fred. 

"You miss her," Illyria said in that matter of fact voice that let Spike know that it was the god in control of the skin and not Fred back from the dead. She was aware of the vampire's affection for the shell, no matter how odious she found it. It made her wonder if that was the reason he stayed by her side, because of the shell, the person she was, not the god she had become.

"Yes," Spike said softly. He took his eyes away from the form. The voice belied what his eyes saw. For one minute he wished she would act like Fred, say is name in that soft lilt she had. Nevertheless, he did not ask - could not ask. That would reveal far more then even he was willing to admit, even in his thoughts. Spike reminded himself once again that Fred was dead and gone. She was not coming back, no matter how many times Illyria put on the act.

"Come on then," he said, getting out of the car. It was early in the morning, four am, and he hoped someone would be awake. He hated to think that he might have to spend the day in the car. If that were the case he would have to find a shaded area and buy some more covers. He did not want to wake up to the tip of his nose on fire again.

Walking up to the door, Spike listened to see if he could hear anything within. Two heartbeats, one in the soft slow drumming of sleep and the other awake, though he could not tell where in the house they were. He nodded to Illyria and she knocked on the door, not hard, but enough that if someone was awake, they would hear it.

Spike listened as someone walked down a pair of stairs and stopped in front of the door to turn on the porch light. Both he and Illyria were bathed in a soft yellow light. The door click open and an elderly woman looked out from the screen in nothing more then a housecoat.

"Can I help you?" she asked, squinting at them. 

"Um, yeah. Ya'll wouldn't happen to have a place to stay for my friend and I here," Illyria said, smiling brightly to the lady. Her accent was just as Spike remembered it and he tried hard not to look at her and return the smile.

"We have no reservations after November 1st, I'm sorry," the old woman said.

"I know, and I'm sorry to pop in like this, but see, we're visitin' a friend, only she doesn't know we're comin'. We wanted to surprise her."

She smiled big at the old woman, looking contrite and ashamed. Spike saw various emotions cross the woman’s face. They needed a place to stay. He held unneeded breath as she contemplated her decision.

“Nothin’s made yet,” she said, opening the door. Illyria bounced on her heels convincingly and Spike turned away, choosing instead to smile at the kindly woman. “But, you’re more then welcome to come in and stay. Me and Stan aren’t leavin’ for a week or so yet so you’s two are lucky.”

“Thank you so much!” Illyria squealed, beaming a hundred-watt smile to the woman. “I’m Fred, by the way. Should’ve told ya earlier, silly me, and this is Will.”

Trying hard to keep the look of utter surprise from his face, Spike turned and smiled, holding out his hand to the old woman to shake.

“Nice to meet you…,” Spike said, leaving room for the woman to tell them her name.

“Estelle,” she said, shaking both of their hands. “Come on now. Thought you two wanted somewhere to stay.” Estelle held open the screen door, ushering in the both of them, then closed, and locked the door.

“You’ve your pick of rooms, I suppose. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go wake up Stan and let him know you’re here,” She said, walking to the stairs. “He’ll be down in a minute to check you all in.”

“Thanks, ma’am. That’d be great,” Illyria said, clasping her hands behind her back. She watched as Estelle slowly climbed the stairs before turning to Spike.

“I do not wish to be in this form any longer,” Illyria said.

“Makes two of us, Pet,” Spike said. He listened as the old couple bustled around upstairs. During the few minutes it took Illyria to convince the old woman to let them stay, Spike had been sure she would not. Soft voices carried down the hallway moments before Estelle and Stan made their way down. Estelle had donned a pair of slippers, but nothing else had changed. He saw out of the corner of his eyes that Illyria had put on a bright smile. Spike tried to be friendly as well.

“Ya’ll be wantin’ a room?” Stan asked stopping in front of them. He looked to be mid-sixties though the sun had worn him in the face so that there were deep wrinkles set into the skin.

“Yes,” Illyria said, her voice high and chipper. It made Spike sick.

“It’s not often we be gettin’ people this late in the season. But, you’s two lucked out,” Stan said, moving to a make shift desk between the foyer and what looked to be a den. “How long will ya be needin’ a room?”

“Just a few days,” Spike said. “Won’t be stayin’ long.”

Stan looked up at Spike’s short answer, but nodded and said, “What’s the name?”

“Winifred Burkle,” Illyria said before Spike could give his name. She turned and smiled at him and he scowled back.

**********

It did not take them long to get settled in. The older couple had assumed that they were together and had not bothered with two separate rooms, and Illyria, somewhat amused by the look of panic that filtered across Spike’s face, had not set Stan or Estelle straight.

“You’re sleepin’ on the floor tonight for that,” Spike said, tossing the bags on the double bed.

“I do not think so, vampire. I will sleep on the bed, and you shall be the one that lies on the floor. It is…fitting,” Illyria said, slipping back into her true form. She smiled slightly at the scowl on Spike’s face. He did not say anything, and she had not thought he would.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It had not been hard for them to find out just where Willow was. Apparently, she was widely-known for her shop, Igneous. While everyone knew there was something she was hiding, no one knew what it was, or why she had settled in Kitty Hawk. Even if they had not had the image of Fred to start conversations, people talked easily enough, and the pair soon found themselves walking to Willow's shop.

"She has done well for herself by human standards," Illyria said, still in the image of Fred. They stood across the street from the place where Willow sat. 

"Yeah," Spike said, lighting up. "She's like that."

He watched, holding unneeded breath, as Illyria walked up to the shop. They had discussed this at length all day; who should go in and talk to her. Spike was not sure how she would receive him. As far as she knew, he was dead. Willow might take it the wrong way, or think him to be the First back to haunt her, and that was the last thing he wanted. Therefore, Illyria went, dressed up as Fred. 

********

"Just how much crap do you have?” Susan asked. She was going through trying to match the inventory with the purchase order. It was long, tedious work, but she did not mind it...too much.

"Enough, more than enough," Willow said, groaning as she flipped through paper after paper. "I swear I didn't mean for it to get like this. I should've put it all on the computer when I first started out but..." 

Willow trailed off as she remembered how Giles filed things back at the Magic Box before Anya had taken over that portion of the business. There had always been papers everywhere and large old books filled with ledgers and numbers. Maybe, without realizing it, Willow had been trying to keep some part of that life with her.

"...I just, forgot," Willow finally said, finishing her sentence.

A moment later, the bells on the door jingled and both women hollered, "We're closed."

"Oh, I was just looking for a friend of mine," Illyria said, smiling that perfect Fred-like smile. "Her name is Willow. I heard she owned this shop."

It was as if timed slowed and then stopped for Willow. They had found her. Someone had found her. Willow saw Susan start to stand from her seat and turned to see who it was that had found her and ruined her happy life.

"Stop!” Willow called out and both Susan and Illyria stopped dead in their tracks, looking at Willow to see just whom she was talking to.

It was all too much, however, for Willow to handle. Fred was there. Fred was there and knew who she was. Finally, she looked up at the girl. Willow’s body screamed that something was wrong. 'Not Fred,' she thought. 'Not Fred!'

"Get out," Willow said soft and low. 

"But Willow," Illyria said, still in the guise of Fred. There was not much else the god could think to do. The human was obviously displeased with the proceedings, and yet she was still moving closer. There was power in the girl. More power, Illyria supposed, than the human knew what to do with. She looked up in time to hear Willow whispering something in Latin before her guise was stripped from her and she stood as Illyria. 

No one heard as Susan asked question after question about what was going on, who the girl was that came in, and why that girl was now blue.

"Get out, now," Willow said. 

"Red! Wait!" a voice cried out from the doorway. Willow's head whipped around to see Spike standing there.

"How dare you!" she yelled, shutting the door in his face. Spike was dead...no way for him to be there. She was sure it was just a trick of whatever was in front of her. 

Spike had been thrown back to the pavement. She'd shut the door in his face, but he had to get in. Illyria was a ticking time bomb on own, but add Willow into the mix and there were sure to be sparks. All during the trip, Illyria had been curious about Willow's power. Spike did not want to think about just what Illyria would do to provoke Willow into using it. 

Pushing on the door, Spike got it open. The scene before him was not as bad as what he had thought he would find. No one was dead, and that was always a plus in his books these days, but there seemed to be some sort of stand-off between Illyria and Willow while the human looked on, shocked. Carefully, he tried to get the human's attention. Finally, she looked at him; her eyes were filled with wonder.

"Invite me in, Luv," Spike said softly.

The human just stood there, only when she was about to say something did Willow finally turn her attention to Spike.

"You are _not_ invited in," Willow said. "How dare you come here with this...this thing!"

"I am a god," Illyria said, standing up straighter.

"I don't care what you are. Just get out," Willow said. "Or I'll force you out."

"You would-" 

"Come on, Blue," Spike said softly from the doorway, cutting Illyria off. 

"You came all this way to leave now?” Illyria asked.

"Got what we came for. We know she's fine. Let's leave her be, yeah?” Spike asked. He looked to Willow, but she was not looking at him. "Sorry, Red. Didn't mean to...bloody hell...Bit was worried was all. Begged me to look into it. I'll just let her know you're fine then an' leave you be."

"Don't tell her where I am," Willow said softly, looking down at the floor. In a gesture reminiscent of a younger self, she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked to her side, finally looking up at Spike. She wanted to go to him, touch him to see if he was real, but she was afraid that this was all an illusion. She was afraid to believe that someone actually cared enough to hunt her down. Instead, she let herself believe that it was all an illusion. It was much easier that way.

Nodding, Spike motioned to Illyria, and together they left the little shop, heading back to the bed and breakfast they were staying at. Turning back quickly, Spike pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down the name and address of where they were staying and tossed it into the store. With one last look at Willow, he turned and left.

**********

It had taken more persuasion then she was used to needing to get Susan to leave. The woman had insisted that they call the police, or something, but Willow told her that the police would not believe them even if they did call. Besides, what could they have told the police? Some woman came into her shop, and once Willow had cast a revealing spell on her, she turned into some blue-eyed, blue-haired person claiming to be a god? No, that would not go over well.

Susan, however, was not doing as badly as Willow had thought she would be, taking it, it seemed, in stride. 

"So, you really can do all that magick stuff you stock in here?" she had asked, after a cup of tea.

"Yeah," Willow said softly, twirling her spoon in her cup. 

"Can you, I don't know, change your appearance?” Susan asked. It was innocent questioning; however, just the fact that all of this was real...she could hardly take it in. Moreover, that Willow could do these things. Magically make things happen? Susan just had to know more.

"Yeah," Willow said. "It's a simple glamour spell. But Susan, that's all beside the point. Look, I know...actually, I don't know anymore. I'm sorry you were in the middle of that."

"What? That? That was nothing. You should see when my father and my brother get together," Susan said, laughing softly and patting Willow on the back. "So, should I even ask who they were?"

Staring into her tea, Willow wished it would give her the answers to give Susan. How could she explain who Fred was, or who she had once been? Willow was not sure who or what now inhabited Fred's body. She was not sure she wanted to know for that matter. And Spike...he had been dead. He had died to close the Hellmouth. How could he have been there, talking to her in that voice she remembered so well? Not that they were the best of friends, but Willow felt something for him, if nothing more then a sense of appreciation for saving all of their lives. Even with her spell to activate all of the Slayers, it would not have been enough to win the war if it had not been for Spike and the amulet Buffy had given him. He had known the risks, known what it was going to do to him, or at least, what it could do to him and he had taken it, taken that plunge, and died for them. A part of her was almost afraid to think that Spike was back. The other part was curious as to the how's and why's of it.

"Friends or they were friends," Willow said. She did not want to say any more and she knew Susan would pry. There were things Willow could not tell her though, things Susan just would not understand or even believe. Hell, half the time Willow did not believe them herself. "I really...I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright," Susan said, surprising Willow. There were times for prying and times to let things be until the dust settled, and Susan recognized this was a time to let things be. There would be other talks, other questions, but they could wait. 

"Will you at least come this weekend and see the house inland?” Susan asked. 

"Maybe," Willow said. She was tired. It wasn't the spell she'd cast that had worn her out, it was that she now had to decide if she was going to stay, knowing that her friends now knew where she was, or if she was going to try to run again.

"Do you want me to stay? I can call Steve and let him know," Susan said, rubbing Willow's back soothingly. She had never seen Willow so stressed out. And over seeing supposed old friends at that. Susan silently wondered what had gone on that her friend would not be happy to see them.

"No, I'm fine. Go home and tuck your kids in." Willow just wanted time to think alone. 

"Ok, but you know you can call me if you need to, right?" 

"I know, Susan. Thank you. I just need to sleep I think. I'll be fine. It was just a...shock, you know?"

"Yeah, you can say that again."

"Thanks again," Willow said, standing up and giving Susan a hug. "I'll probably come with you this weekend. Just to prove I can."

Susan laughed, "You do that. Be good, Willow."

Walking towards the door, Susan stopped, bent down, and picked up a piece of paper. On it was scribbled the name of the bed and breakfast just down the road. Stan and Estelle owned it. Apparently, that was where Willow's friends were staying. Carefully, Susan slipped the piece of paper in her pocket and walked out the door. She figured if Willow would not do anything about them, then she would. 

**********

Relieved when Susan left, Willow cleaned up the cups of tea and trekked upstairs. She needed a little stronger tea if she was ever going to sleep. Something spiced with a good shot of bourbon. She needed to dull the pain and panic that wanted to set in. Willow did not want to leave. She was comfortable here in the little seaside town. She had established a home and business. It was all hers and giving it up just had not been in the plans. 

Grabbing a broom, Willow began to sweep her small upstairs apartment. Busy work was all it was. If she could think about getting the cobweb in that corner and making sure this was straight and tidy, then she would not worry about why Dawn had asked Spike to come find her, or even why Spike was traveling with that...Fred-like woman. Willow wondered just who she was and why it seemed she had set off every single one of Willow's internal alarms, but none of the wards on the outside of the store. Then there was Spike. He had not come in. The barrier had prevented it. That meant he was not a ghost or something like that. Spike was real. Spike was alive or still dead at least. He was a vampire still. Willow could not comprehend it. It was all too much.

Sinking into the chair by the table, Willow placed her head in her arms and sighed. Too much, it was always too much. How had she survived her years in Sunnydale? Things like coming back from the dead and changing into something else had once seemed almost like a daily event. But now, it was just too much

Willow opened her eyes and stared at the floor, willing it to open up and swallow her, take her away from everything. She could not go back to that lifestyle, she knew that much. No matter what any of them might say, she just could not do it. 

Leaning over, Willow spotted a piece of folded paper on the floor and picked it up. She did not remember ever seeing paper like it before. Thinking it must have fallen out of something, she opened it up and read.

_Dearest Willow,_

_My time has come, I fear, for if you have this in your possession, then I am well and truly gone. However, I cannot say that it surprises me. With the risks I took with my life I can only be happy that it will be old age that takes me and not the dark forces of the world against which I've fought for most of my years._

_I have sent you my most prized possessions. I know the council will be searching high and low for these, but I do feel they belong in your hands, not theirs. I know you, if no one else, will truly appreciate what has been recorded in these pages._

_I do not pretend to know why you left for the reasons are your own, though I do hope you have found what you were searching for. I hope this finds you well._

_You, more than any of the others, were truly like my very own daughter. Smart beyond your years and knowledgeable in everything. You made me proud Willow. I do not know if I have ever told you that and I regret that I will not be able to say so from my own lips. But I am. You have showed more life and vigor through everything than even I have at times. Thus, I do not fault you for trying to find a life outside of the circle of the Watcher's Council and away from Slayers. Just know that I love you, Willow._

_Yours,  
Rupert Giles_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

She was a woman on a mission. Susan had not said anything to her husband about what had happened the night before at Willow's shop, but she had told him that Willow was coming with them tomorrow and that she was going to ask two more people to stop by. Steve had been leery, but had not said anything. He knew his wife would not be stopped when she had something in mind, and apparently this was important; so he let it go, gave her the keys, a kiss on the cheek, and told her to have fun.

It wasn't a long drive to the small bed and breakfast that was owned by Stan and Estelle, but she made it last, going over in her head just what she would say to the people who had stopped by. 

Their appearance had startled her, especially when the woman had gone from having a sweet, frilly, almost girl-like appearance to being dressed all in leather and sporting blue hair. That had taken some getting used to, but once Willow had explained that it had been a revealing spell and that all the woman had been doing was a simple glamour spell, Susan had felt better. She could even understand why the woman had made herself up to look like she had. Not many people in this town would accept someone in leather, let alone with bright blue hair.

Finally, she made it to _The Cabin_ and stopped. Taking one last look in the mirror, Susan decided she looked presentable and stepped out of the car and up to the door. She only knocked once before letting herself in. Estelle was the first one to see her and smiled brightly, offering up a hug and a kiss.

"My, my, Susan, don't you look all pretty," Estelle said, holding her at arms length to get a good look.

"So do you, Estelle," Susan said, laughing when the old woman just waved away her compliment.

"So what brings you here," Stan said, coming up to her and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Should've told us girl, we would've had something made for ya."

"Don't worry about it, Stan. Besides, I'm here to see your two houseguests," Susan said.

"That so?” Stan asked. The two guests Susan spoke of were worrying him. They did not come down to eat, nor were they seen until after dark. "Odd ones, them. What would you be wantin' to see them for?"

"They’re friends of Willow," Susan said. She did not pay too much heed to Stan's comment. He thought most people were odd, and surely the man that had accompanied the blue-haired woman was not what they would consider normal, what with his having platinum blond hair.

"Oh? They didn't say who it was they was lookin' for. If we'd known it was our redhead, we woulda been a bit nicer," Estelle said. "They'd just come off the street, see? An' in the middle of the night, too. It was enough to make one leery, but the girl seemed nice enough. Don't know why a nice girl like her would be travelin' with that English man, but to each their own, I suppose."

Susan smiled. Estelle was _always_ one to enjoy a bit of gossip. 

"Oh, I meant to tell you, Steve found a wonderful house for the winter inland. We're going there this weekend, and Willow is coming with us," Susan said. Gossip was the trade, and you did not get some without giving up a little of your own. She and Steve going for the winter was nothing, but the news that she might get Willow out of her store, if only for a weekend, would have Estelle buzzing on the phone all day. She hated to trade Willow's privacy away, but if she did not, Estelle would harass her until she gave something else up.

"Really? How'd you manage to get that girl out of her shop?” Estelle asked. She was genuinely concerned about Willow, so this was more then just gossip to her…it was good news.

"It wasn't easy," Susan said, sighing. "The harder part will be getting her to agree to come for the entire winter. It worries me to know she's sitting above that shop all winter long alone."

"I know what you mean. That poor girl needs to get out more. I hope you can get that through her thick skull. If not, I'll stop by and pack her stuff off so she'll have no choice but to go," Estelle said with a firm nod of her head.

"And I don't doubt you would," Susan said laughing. "I think she'd have a fit, though."

"Probably so," Estelle said.

"They're up on the right, first door," Stan said, breaking the conversation. His wife would talk all day if Susan let her, and Susan usually let her.

"They’re in the same room?” Susan asked. For some reason, she had not thought they were a couple, though, she guessed it could be so. Susan had not gotten a good look at the man, but the woman seemed pretty enough, even with the electric-blue hair. Just because there was a man did not mean he would come specifically for Willow. Susan scolded herself for being a hopeless romantic.

"Yeah, didn't ask for two," Stan said, a knowing sound to his voice.

"Thanks, both of you," Susan said and headed up the stairs. She stopped at the top and looked at the door to the right. It was closed and no light came from under the door. Maybe they were asleep, she thought. They had come by the shop late last night. Or maybe they were just night people. It happened, though it was rare for Kitty Hawk. Everyone tended to be morning people. The sunrises were worth every yawn and cup of coffee it took to wake up.

Straightening her shirt and hair, Susan took a deep breath and brought her hand up to knock when the door was opened and she was face to face with the blond haired man. Not having had the chance last night to really look at him, Susan now took the opportunity. It was a cursory look, but already she could tell he was pale but handsome with dark brows and a scar over his left eye. His eyes caught her. They were a deep blue, the color of the ocean. It was a color the banks rarely got to see due to pollution, but the days it shone through, everyone was out to take a look. And now she was looking into the ocean depths in the eyes of the man in front of her. It took her breath away. 

"Hi, I'm Susan, we uh, well, we didn't meet last night, but I saw you," Susan said, holding out her hand. The man did not take it, but continued to look at her, not saying a word. It was a look that left her feeling naked, as if he was stripping away her skin a piece at a time to see inside.

"I want to talk to you about Willow," Susan said, dropping the happy guise. When all else fails, she thought, get straight to the point. The man stepped back, letting her into the room with a short nod of his head. The room was darker than Susan had thought it would be. The curtains were drawn tight and only the small table lamp beside the bed lit up the room. There was, however, no one else in the room, just the man, and a bed. The bed was the standard Queen size that Stan and Estelle had in every room they offered. However, the bed was made which left Susan with the same curiosity as to whether the woman and man were a couple or not. 

“Talk,” Spike said, taking a seat on the bed. He took out a cigarette and lit it. Susan stepped out of the path of the smoke, not being a smoker herself, and waved away the smoke that followed her.

“I’m Susan, a friend of Willow’s, and you would be?” Susan asked. Already she thought this man to be rude beyond measure. First the silence, then the one-word sentences, and then the smoking without even asking if it would bother her. If this was the type of friend that Willow left behind, Susan really could not blame her.

“Spike. Now what’s this ‘bout Red?” Spike asked. He had not decided what about this woman intrigued him, but she had come up to see him. Hopefully, he could get the information he needed and get _her_ out before Illyria showed back up and scared her off.

“That’s an interesting name…Spike,” Susan said. She was beginning to think her trip here was not as good an idea as she thought.

“Came with the coat,” Spike said, lifting the corner of the duster. 

“Funny,” Susan said, placing a hand on her hip. “Did the attitude come with the coat too? If so, I’d get my money back.” She had had enough of…Spike...now. 

He took an extra moment to look at her. She was like everyone and like no one at the same time. Hints of Buffy and Xander peppered her actions and her speech. “See why she likes you,” Spike said finally.

It was at that moment that Illyria chose to walk through the door behind Susan. She had been in the bathroom cleaning off several days worth of filth. This had been the first place she felt was worthy enough to clean herself in. Seeing Susan, Illyria shifted to the visage of Fred, but not before Susan had caught the direction of Spike’s eyes and looked.

“Oh my,” Susan whispered, placing a hand over her mouth and taking a step back.

“Gig’s up, I’d say, Blue,” Spike said, waving a hand absently at Illyria. “Might as well drop it, pet.”

Curiosity overtook Susan and she lifted her hand to the woman's hair, the one he had called Blue. The woman took a step back, staring at her. Susan's hand dropped back to her side and she watched in wonder as the small, frail woman transformed into the leather-clad creature again.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it," Susan whispered to herself. She had thought she had been prepared to see the blue woman, even to see the guise she used, but Susan was stunned. Even with Willow explaining it, a part of her still had not believed that Willow could do what she said she had done or that this woman could do what Susan had just witnessed.

"What is she doing here?” Illyria asked, looking the woman up and down. It was the human from the witch's shop the night before, but her presence here in their room was baffling the god.

"Came to talk 'bout Red," Spike said. He wanted to know just what it was this woman had wanted to say. The sooner she said what she had to, the sooner she could leave, and the sooner Spike could call Dawn and tell her that Willow was fine and well and he could leave the witch alone. Just like she wanted.

Suddenly, Susan felt like a fly in a web with two deadly spiders looking at her. Again, she wondered just how Willow had come out the way she had if she had been surrounded by people like this growing up. Because these people were nothing like people of the Banks Susan was used to dealing with on a day-to-day basis. However, Willow was not from the Banks either. Willow had taken a little getting used to, herself. She was different, shy, soft-spoken, but with an edge to her that had seemed to be forged in fire, hard and unbreakable. Perhaps whatever had given Willow her edge had caused these two to be callous and hard in another way. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, Susan straightened up, looked them each in the eyes in turn, and smiled.

"I don't know anything about Willow before she came here. She has kept that part a secret. I know she had friends she missed, people she loved, but beyond that she hasn't said a thing," Susan said. Idly, she wondered if perhaps these had been two of the people Willow had often wondered about.

"However, Willow is my friend, practically my best friend, and I have to know...are you here to hurt her?" 

If the idea had not been so absurd, Spike might have actually been offended at that question. However, as it was, he could only try to hold back the smile. When that did not work, he tried to hold back the laughter that threatened to bubble forth. When Illyria cocked her head to the side to look at him and Susan matched that look unknowingly, Spike lost it and burst out laughing.

Susan had been taken off guard by the laughter and had actually jumped when she heard it. From the short time they had been conversing, Susan was sure this Spike had never, ever, laughed or smiled. To see him like this caused her to let her guard down. It put her at ease. If he could laugh, even at such a serious question, he could not be all bad...though that was also dependent on the answer to the question. When Spike had calmed down some, he looked at least a little apologetic.

"Well, are you?” Susan asked. She wanted the answer. It did not seem like he was here to hurt Willow, but he had...even if unintentionally. She just wanted to make sure it _was_ unintentional.

"It is not our intention to harm the witch, merely to see that she is safe," Illyria said when Spike did not immediately answer. She looked to the woman, Susan, and held eye contact with her. The woman seemed to be studying her. Suddenly, Illyria found another human on her list that she would never harm. It was becoming longer and longer the more time she spent with Spike. She was not sure yet, what she thought of that development.

"Good," Susan said, finally. "Then I'd like to invite you to my house at this address," she took out a piece of paper, and handed it to Spike, "this weekend."

"Shouldn't be invitin' strangers, pet," Spike said slowly, taking the piece of paper from Susan. He had not thought Willow had told her friend about all the creatures of the night, but he had at least expected her to tell this woman about the basics, without going into detail.

"You're not a stranger, Spike, you're a friend of Willow’s, and therefore someone I wish to get to know better," Susan said. She turned to Illyria. "Both of you. Dinner will be at 5pm."

"We'll see 'bout stoppin' by on our way out," Spike said. He did not think Willow knew about her friend's plans and he did not want Willow even more upset then what she seemed to be that night. Spike watched as the woman waved, and they said their goodbyes. He looked to Illyria whose face was, as usual, impassive and expressionless.

"Yeah, 'm not so sure myself," Spike said, laying the paper on the bedside table before he lay down to stare at the ceiling. He took Illyria’s expression for one of hesitation.

More than anything, Spike wanted to go, to take Susan's offer and open invitation and corner Willow until she told him just why she took off. Maybe even explain to her what had happened to him. The other part was telling him to be reasonable, to just call Dawn, let her know they had found Willow and that she was all right, and just skip town. The witch had done well for herself and it was not Spike's place to go and ruin it all just because he wanted to talk to her. 

Sitting up, Spike dug through his pockets until he came up with Dawn's card. Quickly, he dialed the number for her office in London, waiting as it rang. 

"Dawn Summers, how may I help you?” Dawn said, somewhat more subdued then normal. Right from the start, Spike thought something was wrong.

"'Bit, 's me," Spike said. "What's wrong, pet?"

"Spike?” Dawn asked, her voice wavering. "Oh God, Spike! It's...it's Giles..."

"Shh, pet," Spike said, when Dawn's voice broke down. He could hear the soft sobs through the phone and he cursed himself for not being able to be there for her. "What happened?"

"He just didn't wake up, Spike," Dawn said quick and panicked. "I went to go tell him he should move to the bed he had in his office, but when I went to move him he was cold. Not like you cold, but real, dead cold. Like mom when I saw her at the hospital. He was just slumped there. Oh God, Spike. It was awful. I mean, he looked peaceful and all, and the doctor said he didn't feel any pain, just kind of slipped away. But...I was hoping...He missed her, you know? I just thought...damnit, Spike! It's just not fair!"

"We found her," Spike said softly after Dawn finished her explanation. He had known Rupert had not been in the best of health, but he had not expected him to go like that, not that quickly. 

"Willow? You found her? Where? Where was she? Did you talk to her? Oh, Spike, you have to tell her about Giles. I'm sure she'd want to know."

"'S all right, pet, I'll tell her. She's...she's doin' well. Got a right nice shop all set up. Like the Magic Box, but not as stuffy. Few decent friends lookin' out for her as well."

"Good. Good. Just, when you talk to her...let her know I miss her? Ever since she left...well, she was like a sister to me, and I miss her, I miss having a sister like that."

"I'll tell her, pet," Spike said, not digging for meaning into what Dawn had said. Something was wrong with Buffy, or she had separated herself from everyone again. "Should call Peaches and see if he won't have a chat with the Slayer, yeah?"

"Maybe," Dawn said. "Promise you'll tell Willow I love her and that I miss her. Promise me you'll tell her about Giles."

"I promise, Nibblet," Spike said.

They exchanged their goodbyes and Spike hung up the phone. Illyria had been standing there the entire time, one hand slowly rubbing along the band of Wesley's watch. They looked at each other for a long moment before Illyria moved and sat next to Spike.

"I do still feel for him," Illyria said, still fondling the watch. It was hard for her to admit, that feeling of caring, of wishing that someone were back in her life. Death was death and it was permanent. She knew this. She had dealt it out for most of her existence. Yet, for the first time, she wanted to take the death back, to give life instead of death, joy instead of pain, wanted understanding instead of absolutes. It had not been all of Wesley's doing, either, that had made her change her mind about things, about life and humans in general. It had been a vampire. It had been Spike. She could see his pain at the loss of this Giles, this Watcher, as Wesley had been. She knew enough to know that Spike had not cared much for this Giles through most of his existence, yet now, when the human was gone, he grieved.

Spike nodded and withdrew another cigarette, lighting it. He now had no choice but to talk to Willow.

"Up for a party, pet?” Spike asked, looking at the paper Susan had given him.

"I do not wish to wear a hat," Illyria said, taking memories from the shell as to what a party was and what happened during them.

Spike smiled, laughing ruefully and said, "Don't think it'll be that type of party."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7**

She was a woman on a mission. Susan had not said anything to her husband about what had happened the night before at Willow's shop, but she had told him that Willow was coming with them tomorrow and that she was going to ask two more people to stop by. Steve had been leery, but had not said anything. He knew his wife would not be stopped when she had something in mind, and apparently this was important; so he let it go, gave her the keys, a kiss on the cheek, and told her to have fun.

It wasn't a long drive to the small bed and breakfast that was owned by Stan and Estelle, but she made it last, going over in her head just what she would say to the people who had stopped by. 

Their appearance had startled her, especially when the woman had gone from having a sweet, frilly, almost girl-like appearance to being dressed all in leather and sporting blue hair. That had taken some getting used to, but once Willow had explained that it had been a revealing spell and that all the woman had been doing was a simple glamour spell, Susan had felt better. She could even understand why the woman had made herself up to look like she had. Not many people in this town would accept someone in leather, let alone with bright blue hair.

Finally, she made it to _The Cabin_ and stopped. Taking one last look in the mirror, Susan decided she looked presentable and stepped out of the car and up to the door. She only knocked once before letting herself in. Estelle was the first one to see her and smiled brightly, offering up a hug and a kiss.

"My, my, Susan, don't you look all pretty," Estelle said, holding her at arms length to get a good look.

"So do you, Estelle," Susan said, laughing when the old woman just waved away her compliment.

"So what brings you here," Stan said, coming up to her and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Should've told us girl, we would've had something made for ya."

"Don't worry about it, Stan. Besides, I'm here to see your two houseguests," Susan said.

"That so?” Stan asked. The two guests Susan spoke of were worrying him. They did not come down to eat, nor were they seen until after dark. "Odd ones, them. What would you be wantin' to see them for?"

"They’re friends of Willow," Susan said. She did not pay too much heed to Stan's comment. He thought most people were odd, and surely the man that had accompanied the blue-haired woman was not what they would consider normal, what with his having platinum blond hair.

"Oh? They didn't say who it was they was lookin' for. If we'd known it was our redhead, we woulda been a bit nicer," Estelle said. "They'd just come off the street, see? An' in the middle of the night, too. It was enough to make one leery, but the girl seemed nice enough. Don't know why a nice girl like her would be travelin' with that English man, but to each their own, I suppose."

Susan smiled. Estelle was _always_ one to enjoy a bit of gossip. 

"Oh, I meant to tell you, Steve found a wonderful house for the winter inland. We're going there this weekend, and Willow is coming with us," Susan said. Gossip was the trade, and you did not get some without giving up a little of your own. She and Steve going for the winter was nothing, but the news that she might get Willow out of her store, if only for a weekend, would have Estelle buzzing on the phone all day. She hated to trade Willow's privacy away, but if she did not, Estelle would harass her until she gave something else up.

"Really? How'd you manage to get that girl out of her shop?” Estelle asked. She was genuinely concerned about Willow, so this was more then just gossip to her…it was good news.

"It wasn't easy," Susan said, sighing. "The harder part will be getting her to agree to come for the entire winter. It worries me to know she's sitting above that shop all winter long alone."

"I know what you mean. That poor girl needs to get out more. I hope you can get that through her thick skull. If not, I'll stop by and pack her stuff off so she'll have no choice but to go," Estelle said with a firm nod of her head.

"And I don't doubt you would," Susan said laughing. "I think she'd have a fit, though."

"Probably so," Estelle said.

"They're up on the right, first door," Stan said, breaking the conversation. His wife would talk all day if Susan let her, and Susan usually let her.

"They’re in the same room?” Susan asked. For some reason, she had not thought they were a couple, though, she guessed it could be so. Susan had not gotten a good look at the man, but the woman seemed pretty enough, even with the electric-blue hair. Just because there was a man did not mean he would come specifically for Willow. Susan scolded herself for being a hopeless romantic.

"Yeah, didn't ask for two," Stan said, a knowing sound to his voice.

"Thanks, both of you," Susan said and headed up the stairs. She stopped at the top and looked at the door to the right. It was closed and no light came from under the door. Maybe they were asleep, she thought. They had come by the shop late last night. Or maybe they were just night people. It happened, though it was rare for Kitty Hawk. Everyone tended to be morning people. The sunrises were worth every yawn and cup of coffee it took to wake up.

Straightening her shirt and hair, Susan took a deep breath and brought her hand up to knock when the door was opened and she was face to face with the blond haired man. Not having had the chance last night to really look at him, Susan now took the opportunity. It was a cursory look, but already she could tell he was pale but handsome with dark brows and a scar over his left eye. His eyes caught her. They were a deep blue, the color of the ocean. It was a color the banks rarely got to see due to pollution, but the days it shone through, everyone was out to take a look. And now she was looking into the ocean depths in the eyes of the man in front of her. It took her breath away. 

"Hi, I'm Susan, we uh, well, we didn't meet last night, but I saw you," Susan said, holding out her hand. The man did not take it, but continued to look at her, not saying a word. It was a look that left her feeling naked, as if he was stripping away her skin a piece at a time to see inside.

"I want to talk to you about Willow," Susan said, dropping the happy guise. When all else fails, she thought, get straight to the point. The man stepped back, letting her into the room with a short nod of his head. The room was darker than Susan had thought it would be. The curtains were drawn tight and only the small table lamp beside the bed lit up the room. There was, however, no one else in the room, just the man, and a bed. The bed was the standard Queen size that Stan and Estelle had in every room they offered. However, the bed was made which left Susan with the same curiosity as to whether the woman and man were a couple or not. 

“Talk,” Spike said, taking a seat on the bed. He took out a cigarette and lit it. Susan stepped out of the path of the smoke, not being a smoker herself, and waved away the smoke that followed her.

“I’m Susan, a friend of Willow’s, and you would be?” Susan asked. Already she thought this man to be rude beyond measure. First the silence, then the one-word sentences, and then the smoking without even asking if it would bother her. If this was the type of friend that Willow left behind, Susan really could not blame her.

“Spike. Now what’s this ‘bout Red?” Spike asked. He had not decided what about this woman intrigued him, but she had come up to see him. Hopefully, he could get the information he needed and get _her_ out before Illyria showed back up and scared her off.

“That’s an interesting name…Spike,” Susan said. She was beginning to think her trip here was not as good an idea as she thought.

“Came with the coat,” Spike said, lifting the corner of the duster. 

“Funny,” Susan said, placing a hand on her hip. “Did the attitude come with the coat too? If so, I’d get my money back.” She had had enough of…Spike...now. 

He took an extra moment to look at her. She was like everyone and like no one at the same time. Hints of Buffy and Xander peppered her actions and her speech. “See why she likes you,” Spike said finally.

It was at that moment that Illyria chose to walk through the door behind Susan. She had been in the bathroom cleaning off several days worth of filth. This had been the first place she felt was worthy enough to clean herself in. Seeing Susan, Illyria shifted to the visage of Fred, but not before Susan had caught the direction of Spike’s eyes and looked.

“Oh my,” Susan whispered, placing a hand over her mouth and taking a step back.

“Gig’s up, I’d say, Blue,” Spike said, waving a hand absently at Illyria. “Might as well drop it, pet.”

Curiosity overtook Susan and she lifted her hand to the woman's hair, the one he had called Blue. The woman took a step back, staring at her. Susan's hand dropped back to her side and she watched in wonder as the small, frail woman transformed into the leather-clad creature again.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it," Susan whispered to herself. She had thought she had been prepared to see the blue woman, even to see the guise she used, but Susan was stunned. Even with Willow explaining it, a part of her still had not believed that Willow could do what she said she had done or that this woman could do what Susan had just witnessed.

"What is she doing here?” Illyria asked, looking the woman up and down. It was the human from the witch's shop the night before, but her presence here in their room was baffling the god.

"Came to talk 'bout Red," Spike said. He wanted to know just what it was this woman had wanted to say. The sooner she said what she had to, the sooner she could leave, and the sooner Spike could call Dawn and tell her that Willow was fine and well and he could leave the witch alone. Just like she wanted.

Suddenly, Susan felt like a fly in a web with two deadly spiders looking at her. Again, she wondered just how Willow had come out the way she had if she had been surrounded by people like this growing up. Because these people were nothing like people of the Banks Susan was used to dealing with on a day-to-day basis. However, Willow was not from the Banks either. Willow had taken a little getting used to, herself. She was different, shy, soft-spoken, but with an edge to her that had seemed to be forged in fire, hard and unbreakable. Perhaps whatever had given Willow her edge had caused these two to be callous and hard in another way. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, Susan straightened up, looked them each in the eyes in turn, and smiled.

"I don't know anything about Willow before she came here. She has kept that part a secret. I know she had friends she missed, people she loved, but beyond that she hasn't said a thing," Susan said. Idly, she wondered if perhaps these had been two of the people Willow had often wondered about.

"However, Willow is my friend, practically my best friend, and I have to know...are you here to hurt her?" 

If the idea had not been so absurd, Spike might have actually been offended at that question. However, as it was, he could only try to hold back the smile. When that did not work, he tried to hold back the laughter that threatened to bubble forth. When Illyria cocked her head to the side to look at him and Susan matched that look unknowingly, Spike lost it and burst out laughing.

Susan had been taken off guard by the laughter and had actually jumped when she heard it. From the short time they had been conversing, Susan was sure this Spike had never, ever, laughed or smiled. To see him like this caused her to let her guard down. It put her at ease. If he could laugh, even at such a serious question, he could not be all bad...though that was also dependent on the answer to the question. When Spike had calmed down some, he looked at least a little apologetic.

"Well, are you?” Susan asked. She wanted the answer. It did not seem like he was here to hurt Willow, but he had...even if unintentionally. She just wanted to make sure it _was_ unintentional.

"It is not our intention to harm the witch, merely to see that she is safe," Illyria said when Spike did not immediately answer. She looked to the woman, Susan, and held eye contact with her. The woman seemed to be studying her. Suddenly, Illyria found another human on her list that she would never harm. It was becoming longer and longer the more time she spent with Spike. She was not sure yet, what she thought of that development.

"Good," Susan said, finally. "Then I'd like to invite you to my house at this address," she took out a piece of paper, and handed it to Spike, "this weekend."

"Shouldn't be invitin' strangers, pet," Spike said slowly, taking the piece of paper from Susan. He had not thought Willow had told her friend about all the creatures of the night, but he had at least expected her to tell this woman about the basics, without going into detail.

"You're not a stranger, Spike, you're a friend of Willow’s, and therefore someone I wish to get to know better," Susan said. She turned to Illyria. "Both of you. Dinner will be at 5pm."

"We'll see 'bout stoppin' by on our way out," Spike said. He did not think Willow knew about her friend's plans and he did not want Willow even more upset then what she seemed to be that night. Spike watched as the woman waved, and they said their goodbyes. He looked to Illyria whose face was, as usual, impassive and expressionless.

"Yeah, 'm not so sure myself," Spike said, laying the paper on the bedside table before he lay down to stare at the ceiling. He took Illyria’s expression for one of hesitation.

More than anything, Spike wanted to go, to take Susan's offer and open invitation and corner Willow until she told him just why she took off. Maybe even explain to her what had happened to him. The other part was telling him to be reasonable, to just call Dawn, let her know they had found Willow and that she was all right, and just skip town. The witch had done well for herself and it was not Spike's place to go and ruin it all just because he wanted to talk to her. 

Sitting up, Spike dug through his pockets until he came up with Dawn's card. Quickly, he dialed the number for her office in London, waiting as it rang. 

"Dawn Summers, how may I help you?” Dawn said, somewhat more subdued then normal. Right from the start, Spike thought something was wrong.

"'Bit, 's me," Spike said. "What's wrong, pet?"

"Spike?” Dawn asked, her voice wavering. "Oh God, Spike! It's...it's Giles..."

"Shh, pet," Spike said, when Dawn's voice broke down. He could hear the soft sobs through the phone and he cursed himself for not being able to be there for her. "What happened?"

"He just didn't wake up, Spike," Dawn said quick and panicked. "I went to go tell him he should move to the bed he had in his office, but when I went to move him he was cold. Not like you cold, but real, dead cold. Like mom when I saw her at the hospital. He was just slumped there. Oh God, Spike. It was awful. I mean, he looked peaceful and all, and the doctor said he didn't feel any pain, just kind of slipped away. But...I was hoping...He missed her, you know? I just thought...damnit, Spike! It's just not fair!"

"We found her," Spike said softly after Dawn finished her explanation. He had known Rupert had not been in the best of health, but he had not expected him to go like that, not that quickly. 

"Willow? You found her? Where? Where was she? Did you talk to her? Oh, Spike, you have to tell her about Giles. I'm sure she'd want to know."

"'S all right, pet, I'll tell her. She's...she's doin' well. Got a right nice shop all set up. Like the Magic Box, but not as stuffy. Few decent friends lookin' out for her as well."

"Good. Good. Just, when you talk to her...let her know I miss her? Ever since she left...well, she was like a sister to me, and I miss her, I miss having a sister like that."

"I'll tell her, pet," Spike said, not digging for meaning into what Dawn had said. Something was wrong with Buffy, or she had separated herself from everyone again. "Should call Peaches and see if he won't have a chat with the Slayer, yeah?"

"Maybe," Dawn said. "Promise you'll tell Willow I love her and that I miss her. Promise me you'll tell her about Giles."

"I promise, Nibblet," Spike said.

They exchanged their goodbyes and Spike hung up the phone. Illyria had been standing there the entire time, one hand slowly rubbing along the band of Wesley's watch. They looked at each other for a long moment before Illyria moved and sat next to Spike.

"I do still feel for him," Illyria said, still fondling the watch. It was hard for her to admit, that feeling of caring, of wishing that someone were back in her life. Death was death and it was permanent. She knew this. She had dealt it out for most of her existence. Yet, for the first time, she wanted to take the death back, to give life instead of death, joy instead of pain, wanted understanding instead of absolutes. It had not been all of Wesley's doing, either, that had made her change her mind about things, about life and humans in general. It had been a vampire. It had been Spike. She could see his pain at the loss of this Giles, this Watcher, as Wesley had been. She knew enough to know that Spike had not cared much for this Giles through most of his existence, yet now, when the human was gone, he grieved.

Spike nodded and withdrew another cigarette, lighting it. He now had no choice but to talk to Willow.

"Up for a party, pet?” Spike asked, looking at the paper Susan had given him.

"I do not wish to wear a hat," Illyria said, taking memories from the shell as to what a party was and what happened during them.

Spike smiled, laughing ruefully and said, "Don't think it'll be that type of party."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Walking into Igneous, Susan could not wait to get Willow out to the house. She was convinced that if she could just get Willow out there, she would love it and agree to stay for the winter. However, Susan still was not too sure of what she was going to do about Spike and the woman, whose name she still did not know…but that could wait. If, for some reason, they turned out to be bad news, they would just have to leave and Susan would apologize to Willow. 

Looking around, she could not see Willow anywhere. Normally, her friend would be out of bed, straightening the store, or talking to customers. However, nothing was done and there was no sign of Willow anywhere.

"Willow?” Susan called out. She checked the back storeroom, but Willow was not back there. She hoped she had not left her friend too soon the other night. She regretted going straight to see Spike this morning instead of checking on Willow, but she had told Susan she was fine. And Susan had believed her. Why wouldn’t she? But now, she felt horrible. What if something had happened after she had left and Willow was hurt?

With that thought, Susan bounded up the stairs to the apartment above the shop. Stopping short, she saw Willow curled up in her chair by the fire, rocking back and forth, a blank expression on her face, cradling books. 

"Willow?” Susan asked softly. She watched as Willow slowly turned to face her. Willow's eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying and her face was blotchy with red spots. 

"Oh Willow," Susan said hurrying to her friend’s side. "What is it? What's wrong?" She wrapped her arms around Willow, holding on to her as she shook with fresh tears.

*********

It had taken nearly an hour for Willow to calm down enough to answer any question Susan asked, and even longer for Susan to understand just what it was Willow was trying to tell her. In the end, Willow had shown Susan the letter from Giles. 

Through it all though, Willow had not let go of the Diaries Giles had sent her, seeing them as the only link she had left to the man that was both mentor and father figure to her, and most importantly, friend.

In a daze, Willow listened as Susan explained everything she was doing, from fixing tea to help calm her down, to the cold compress she placed over Willow's eyes. She went through the motions, not feeling or hearing anything really. It all seemed so surreal and unimportant in the larger scheme of things. She wanted to turn to Giles to cry, but he was no longer there. She wanted to call him and apologize, but all she had left was the answering machine. She wanted to mail him a letter explaining all the reasons she had not been able to stay, and all the reasons she had not said goodbye to him, but there was no one to receive the letter. Instead, she clung tightly to the books that he had so lovingly written over the years. 

Susan had packed her bags and was walking Willow down to her car. Something about going somewhere, but Willow had not heard. She was waiting for the pain or the reality...something to make it so she could feel anything but the emptiness she had inside of her.

**********

Throughout the trip, Willow had remained quiet, no matter how many questions April asked her, no matter how many times Jason had pulled on her sleeve. Steve and Susan took turns looking back to check on her. Susan had told Steve about the letter, about how she had found Willow, and about her friends who would be showing up at the house later that night. He said nothing, only nodded and loaded Willow's bag into the trunk and made sure she was secure in the seatbelt.

Finally, they made it to the house. It was just as Steve had said it would be. Quaint and perfect, sitting on a large piece of land that led to woods in the back. The nearest neighbor was a few acres away. The soft blue of the house looked inviting and Steve opened the door, ushering the kids inside as Susan took care of Willow.

Carefully, Susan sat Willow on the couch in the living room as she settled her two children and made sure everything had been brought into the house. It worried her that Willow was in a catatonic-like state. Susan recognized the books Willow held as well. They had come just over a week ago. She wondered what was in them and what exactly they had to do with Willow’s despair.

The day wore on as everyone got settled in and looked around the house. They had brought more then they needed for just a weekend, bringing things in anticipation of moving in for the winter. Steve led Willow up to the attic, which was more like an apartment. There was even a small two-burner stove and little toaster oven. He tried to engage her in conversation, commenting on everything from the flooring to the ceiling paint, but still Willow said nothing. He suggested a nap and watched as Willow lay on the bed, curled around the books, her eyes still wide open.

**********

It seemed to take them forever just to leave her alone. All she had wanted was to be left alone. The soft words, the gentle glances, the worried looks...it was almost patronizing, and they didn't realize just how much it took to keep her from screaming at the top of her lungs. 

Willow remembered what had happened when Tara had died, the sense of injustice she had felt, the way she had lost control of everything. Giles had been there, in the end, to pull her back from that edge. Harsh, cruel words did not do the trick; soft comfort had not worked either. It had taken pure magick and pure love to pull her back. Looking back, Willow thought that only Xander and Giles would ever have been able to help her. It could not have been anyone else but them. There was something special about them that connected her to them. Willow cared so deeply for the both of them. 

Kennedy's death had affected her like a quiet, deadly, storm. She had not screamed, she had not killed, but something inside of her had died. Something had given up, refused to cope with it, and she had left. Quickly, quietly, and without even a note, or a single goodbye.

Now she was paying for it, just as she had paid for the magick abuse after Tara's death. Willow was afraid to wonder just what else had happened since she had left. She was afraid of who else was dead, who was gone, who had not been able to cope.

There was too much death in her life. She could see the bodies spread before her in varying states of decay, each reaching for her as she tried to get away. It was not the run of the mill vampire, these were people she knew...Jesse, Buffy, though resurrected, Tara, Kennedy, Jenny, Spike, Anya...and now Giles. These were people she had cared for, even loved, each in their own way. Willow felt as if she would choke on the decay and death that surrounded her.

Finally, Willow gave up and closed her eyes, letting the tears fall silently. She did not know who to go to now that Giles was gone. There was no shoulder to cry on, no rock to hold her up. She was afraid she was drowning, and even more fearful of the fact that she was not sure she cared.

**********

"She's been up there a while," Susan said, looking towards the attic. Steve had come down to tell her that Willow was lying down, still clutching the books. Susan had wanted to go up and sit with her friend, comfort her somehow, but Steve had stopped her. 

"She'll be down when she's ready," Steve said, kissing his wife on her cheek. "Besides, she looked like she could use the rest. Now leave her be and lets get this place habitable. They didn't tell me there was three inches of dust on everything."

"There's not three inches," Susan said, rolling her eyes. She appreciated her husband's practical nature, yet hated that he was right. Though if Willow did not come down in time for dinner, she would have to go up and get her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Voices filtered through the floor and made their way up to the attic, muffled and distorted, pulling Willow out of her slumber. She did not want to know who was there. 

Earlier, Susan had come up with dinner, trying to get her to eat, but Willow had not been hungry. All Willow could think was that Susan did not have a clue, did not know everything she did. How could Willow be friends with someone more vulnerable than herself? How could she open herself up to more pain? Moreover, how could she put Susan in such danger? There were many people who knew she used to help the Slayer. Too many people and other creatures had left Sunnydale with that knowledge before it had fallen. Surely something was always trying to get at the Slayers, and consequently, their friends.

It had been foolish of her to think that she could have kept everything from Susan, let alone think that she could have a semi-normal life that did not revolve around demons and killing. She ran a magick shop. That alone should have told her that she could not leave that life behind. She needed that link, if only imaginary, to the world she had lived in for so long.

Oh, but her foolishness went way beyond just needing a link to that life. Willow had kept it all a secret - the underbelly of the world, what really went bump in the night - and in doing so, possibly endangered the lives of her friends, their children, and everyone else around her. Willow had only the best of intentions, but after all, the road to hell, they say, was paved with good intentions.

Willow thought about where she would be right now if Buffy had not told her about vampires, if Giles had not shown her books on magick and demons, if Oz had not been bitten by his cousin, if Dawn had not come into their lives, if Tara had not tried to hide her family secret...so many things depended on the other to be there. She knew for a fact that she and Xander would be dead by now if it had not been for Buffy saving their lives that one night. Even though she could not save Jesse, Willow never blamed her.

Now, however, Willow had to decide what to do. She did not know if she should tell them or not. They would either believe her or think her to be crazy. And honestly, Willow thought she was going a bit mad herself. After one day, one day of being reminded about the past and she was already contemplating telling her entire life story and the secrets of the world.

Sitting up, Willow sighed. Everything seemed to fall to her at some point or another and she wished desperately that Xander was there. He was her rock when she could not stand on her own.

The voices continued downstairs, drowning out her thoughts. Willow wished they would be quiet so she could think. 

**********

Spike cut the engine and looked at the house. It was quaint, just the think he thought Willow would have picked for herself some day. He did not know why he was there. Surely he could have found other ways to tell Willow about Giles' death, but there he was, staring up at the house.

He could feel her, the ebb and flow of her magick, all that he had come to associate with Willow. Spike remembered the first time he had been drawn to her. As a soulless demon, he had seen the potential she had for evil, the things she could have done under his guidance and tutelage. Then, as time wore on, he saw the lack of appreciation from her friends, and just how much she put up with. He had been in Africa, getting his soul, when she had fallen from grace. Even when he was crazy, he saw the hurt in her eyes when he had told her that Buffy and Xander thought it had been her that had skinned that man. And still he had said it, told them it was her, but he had not meant it the way it came out.

"Are we to sit here all night?" Illyria asked from the passenger seat, breaking him from his thoughts. She watched as he turned, an uncertain and apprehensive look on his face. There was pain hidden in his eyes and Illyria wasn't sure what to do about it, or how to help him. 

"No, 'spose not," Spike said, getting out of the vehicle. He was hesitant, unsure of what to do or what to say. The news of Giles' death had been a shock to him. Though he should have expected it sooner or later; but for some reason, Spike had thought the old Watcher would be there forever. On top of that, Spike did not want to have to tell Willow about Giles. He did not know the right words to say, not that there were any. Moreover, he would have to explain about his own existence. At that moment, turning around seemed like a good idea. However, they had not come this far just to turn back now, and he'd promised Dawn. 

They walked together up the walk that led to the front door. Illyria stood in all her godly glory, having decided to forego the change into the form of the shell. The woman had seen her as she was. There was no need for pretense anymore.

Spike knocked on the door, putting out the cigarette that seemed to be constantly hanging from his lip. They could hear Susan's voice tell them she was coming, while a male voice told some children to calm down.

"Hi," Susan said brightly, opening the door. She was surprised to see them, and yet not, at the same time. However, now, with the situation as it was...she was glad they were there. Even after Willow had let her read the note and told her broken stories about the man, Susan still had no idea what this Rupert Giles had meant to her friend.

"Come on now, in ya go," Susan said, moving out of the doorway to let them in. Illyria walked in first, followed closely by Spike. They were silent, and only Spike acknowledged the invitation with a slight nod of his head. Already this felt like a bad idea to him, but there was no backing out now.

"You can move beyond the foyer. I promise the kids won't bite," Susan said, walking past them into the living room. Spike and Illyria followed, watching said kids. The two children watched the strangers, mostly Illyria, and the girl stepped closer.

"I'm April," the girl said, smiling. "What's your name?"

"I am known as Illyria." The god cocked her head to the side and studied the child. She had never seen one so bold. During her reign, all children had feared her. 

"Your hair is blue," she said, giggling.

"And yours is brown," Illyria said. She looked to Spike, curious as to the purpose of the exchange she was having with the small child, but when she looked, Spike and the two humans were smiling broadly at her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

April had effectively broken the ice between everyone, though Illyria still eyed the small girl as if she were something more than just a child. Spike did not hand over his jacket when Susan had offered to take it, but took a beer when Steve brought one out.

"So, did you find the place alright?" Steve asked.

"Wasn’t hard," Spike said. He did not want to demand to see Willow right away. He could hear her upstairs, soft sighs and a steady heartbeat, so at least he knew she was there. And, if she was sleeping, as it sounded, he did not want to wake her up. His and Illyria's visit the other day had caught her off guard and he was sure that she had been thinking about it. Plus, Susan was tossing concerned glances above them, making Spike worry more. Had they really caused that much trouble? But he did not know the circumstances; he did not know what her reasons for leaving had been. It was possible that Spike and Illyria showing up had unbalanced Willow somehow. The more he talked with Susan and Steve, the more Spike thought that Willow had deluded herself into believing that everything in Sunnydale had been all a bad dream and had never actually happened. Their showing up proved the fact that it had been real and therefore tossed Willow's safe world out the window.

Susan had not told him much about their visitors, just that they were a little different and were friends of Willow's. Really, they were not all that odd, just from another country. Steve had no problem placing Spike's accent. They had even had a small conversation about London and the differences between America and England. There was something...different...about Spike's answers, but Steve thought it was just because Spike was more learned then he let on. Illyria, however, he could not place where she was from. Her English was impeccable, going so far as to not use any contractions or even the slang that peppered everyone else's speech. However, she actually sounded American. The electric-blue hair was something else as well. It was different and unique and matched her eyes exactly. The dye seemed to have bled into her skin though. He was not sure if it was intentional, or an accident that stuck...literally.

After some small talk, Spike decided it was time to see Willow.

"'S Red comin' down?" he asked, trying to be somewhat tactful. He was not sure how the humans would take to him just getting up and walking up there.

"Well," Susan said, looking to her husband before turning back, "she, she got some bad news and, well, I don't know if I should tell you. She's been up there asleep and...hey! What are you doing?" 

Spike had gotten up and began walking up the stairs. Willow knew. Somehow, Willow had found out. He had to make sure she was alright and find out how. He had just learned about Giles the other day from Dawn. Surely, Willow had not called Dawn. She would have called Spike to tell him. 

"You can't just go up there like that," Susan said, standing up to stop him. 

He looked and saw Illyria standing, she would take care of her, hopefully without bloodshed, but right then Spike was focused on Willow. He stood at the door, barely hearing what Illyria was saying to the woman, something about pain, and that Spike knew what he was doing. He wished he had as much faith in himself as Illyria seemed to have in him.

The door before him was closed and he stood staring at it. Taking a deep breath, Spike turned the knob and walked in. The attic room was larger than he had thought it would be. Taking a few steps forward, he heard someone inhale sharply.

“Willow?” Spike asked. He felt like he was trespassing, invading her privacy by walking in there and daring to speak her name.

She had not dared to believe she had heard his voice earlier, and yet, there he was, standing in her room, talking to her. Carefully, Willow sat up, her eyes wide with wonder and a hint of disbelief.

“You’re dead,” Willow said softly. It had not been said in hate, but Spike had flinched all the same and Willow flinched with him. 

“Still am, Pet,” Spike said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. He watched as her mouth quirked up in a smile before it fell and her brows knitted in thought. Willow stared at him, as if she was trying to see with just her eyes the truth of his words. He stepped closer and saw her arms wrapped tightly around a bundle of books. Some of the books looked old and well worn, and just a few looked new and barely touched.

Suddenly, Willow stood up and Spike stopped his forward momentum. He could still feel the prickling of magick along his skin and it made him edgy, cautious. She began pacing in front of him from the bed, to the wall, and back again in quick short steps. Her hands twisted, fingers clenching and unclenching around the books.

“Red,” Spike said, holding out his hand to stop her. His flesh made contact with hers, and she stopped, wide eyed, and looked directly into his eyes. It seemed she had not believed until that moment that he was real. It had not been until she felt the solidness of his hand that she had let herself believe. Letting go, Spike shook himself mentally.

“I’ve got some news. You should sit down, yeah?”

“When Spike?” Willow asked. “When did he die?”

Spike blinked. He had thought she had known, but until now, he had not been sure. Slowly, he led her back to the bed and sat her down, taking a seat next to her. She watched him, eyes never blinking or leaving his face. Spike saw the tears before he smelled the salt on the air.

“Don’t know,” Spike said finally. “Only found out myself last night from Nibblet.”

Accepting that answer, Willow nodded and looked down to her arms where she still held Giles’ diaries. 

“I didn’t tell him, you know, that I was leaving,” Willow said, her voice thick with emotion. “I just…left. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell him I loved him, or how much he meant to me. There’s so much I didn’t tell him.”

There was nothing Spike could do as he watched Willow silently cry. He knew the bland comforts humans offered at these times would do nothing to help her. Spike had never seen the point of telling someone it would be alright when that was the furthest thing from the truth. Willow turned to him again, tears still streaming, and all he could do was show his own grief over the situation. She nodded, smiled softly, and looked back down at the books.

“Willow?” Susan asked from the doorway, startling both Spike and Willow. Susan came rushing in, wrapped her arms around her friend, and turned to glare at Spike. “I’m sorry, Willow. I tried to keep him from coming up, but that Illyria stopped me. Are you ok?”

Trying to keep from being smothered by her friend, Willow extricated herself from Susan’s arms and looked from Spike to the doorway, and back to Susan.

“I’m…alright,” Willow said. “Spike just came to tell me about…about Giles.”

Spike nodded and stood up. He had done what he had come to do. There was no need to tread where he was not wanted anymore. However, while his mind told him to go, his feet would not listen. He stood there, staring at Willow. 

“I won’t tell them,” Spike said, and with great effort, he turned and walked out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Staring at Spike’s retreating form, Willow was speechless. The closest thing she had to a friend from the past had come to give her news of Giles’ death, and now he was leaving. His words, soft and sorrowful filled her ears and her mind.

Jumping up, Willow raced after him, dropping the books. She could not let him slip through her fingers. She had to know everything. Or at least something. He seemed to be a lifeline for her, a connection to what she had once held dear and close to her. 

Willow ran down the stairs just in time to see Spike’s familiar leather coat move through the doorway. Her feet would not move fast enough as they pounded through the house and out the door.

“Spike!” Willow cried out. “Wait!”

Turning, Spike was surprised to see Willow barreling towards him. He stood, waiting for her to catch up and catch her breath. He had not expected her to come after him. Willow had seemed happy and content to stay in the world she had built around herself.

“Spike, I…,” Willow said, her voice trailing off. She did not know what to say now that she had stopped him. “You, you don’t have to leave yet.”

**********

Agreeing to come back inside, Spike and Illyria followed Willow. When she sat on the couch, Spike sat next to her in a separate chair. Illyria thought it wise to take a seat across the room. 

“Just ask,” Spike said. He did not know what the question would be, but he hoped he could answer it.

“How?”

“Told you, don’t know. Called ‘Bit an’ found out-“

“No, I mean you,” Willow said, cutting him off. “You…Buffy saw you burst into…then the crater and…how, Spike?”

“Don’t know,” Spike said, looking away. “Some bloody game these lawyer types were tryin’ to play on Angel. One minute I was burning an’ the next I was poppin’ out of the amulet in Angel’s office.”

Willow nodded, staring at Spike. It was still amazing to see him there, to see the life, or unlife, that still radiated through him. She thought she could see his soul in his eyes, the pain of it. Her hand moved to caress his cheek, but stopped short, and she dropped her hand into her lap, twisting her fingers in a nervous gesture. Willow did not know why she had wanted to touch him again, but his shocked expression made her stop. 

“So, Dawn…she sent you?” Willow asked, trying to break the tension her movement had caused.

“Yeah, she did,” Spike said, shaking himself. There was something fragile about Willow at this moment, more so than when she had been crying in the attic. It tore at him deep inside, made him want to take away all the pain her life had brought her, but he knew he could not. A part of him wished she would have touched him just a moment ago and another part told him he was being selfish. Taking his time, Spike took a good look at the girl…no, woman…in front of him. She was still so like the girl he had kidnapped and threatened when she was just sixteen.

“’Bit called a little over a year ago an’ asked me to look into it. Was afraid for you.”

“A year ago?” Willow asked, surprised. “It’s taken you that long?”

“Well, ‘s not like you’re an easy bird to find,” Spike said defensively. “Plus, had Blue taggin’ ‘long with me.”

Willow did not know if she should be upset or pleased with herself that it took Spike over a year to locate her. She had not tried very hard to hide her trail. After all, Willow had not even changed her name.

“Illyria, what is she? Why does she look like Fred?” Willow asked. The woman still gave her chills that cried ‘danger’. 

“Was Fred. ‘S a long story, but this twit she worked with decided to bring his god back and Texas got infected. Illyria took over her body. Tried to get some help from ‘ole Rupert, but didn’t happen. Anyways, now we’ve got our own god.”

It was too much and Willow’s head began to spin. She had missed so much. Moreover, Giles, he had known about Fred and still had not helped her? She felt anger at Giles for the first time in years before remembering she could not lecture him because he was gone. Grief hit hard again and she blinked back tears. If she had been around, maybe Willow would have been able to help. There might have been something she could have done to save Fred from her fate. 

“I’m sorry,” Willow said softly. It did not change the fact that Fred was gone, but she felt she owed the memory of the woman at least that much. Willow had liked Fred, and considered her a friend. 

They sat in the living room of Susan and Steve’s winter home, the children having been put to bed, and talked. Susan picked up the books Willow had dropped and looked through them. At first, she had thought they were nothing more than fictional stories, scary and horror filled as they were, until she had reached mention of Willow. The stories were real, yet they were surreal, and Susan did not know what to make of them. She came down the stairs, books in hand, and saw Steve sitting talking animatedly to Illyria while Spike and Willow sat apart from them, having a quiet conversation of their own.

Spike was the first to notice Susan come down the stairs, her face pale and drawn, and Giles’ diaries in her hands. Willow followed his gaze and looked wide-eyed from Susan to the books and back. Standing up, Willow walked to Susan and reached out to touch her, but her friend took a frightened step backwards.

“Susan, please,” Willow pleaded. 

“I don’t understand,” Susan said, her voice tight. “These things aren’t real. Why is your name in these books?”

Willow looked to Spike, begging him to help. She did not know what to do. 

“What are you?” Susan asked. “Steve! Get away from her!” She cried out to her husband. He stood up and walked to his wife who clung to him. 

“Susan, honey, what’s wrong? Why do you have Willow’s books?” Steve asked. He did not know what was wrong. One minute he had been discussing history with Illyria who seemed to know more about things than Steve had ever read in a book, and the next minute his wife came down from the attic in hysterics.

“Get out of my house,” Susan said, still scared. She shoved the books at Willow, careful not to touch her. “Get out now.”

“Susan, wait, what is it?” Steve asked. 

“Please, just, what did you read?” Willow asked, hugging the books to her once more. Her friend, the one person who had kept her from self-destructing, was tossing her out.

“You…you killed…,” Susan said, her voice trailing off. She could not bring herself to say the words. “Just get out.”

That had been the one thing Willow _had not_ wanted Susan to read. And there it was now, out in the open. Nodding, Willow turned and walked swiftly out of the house.


	13. Chapter 13

b>Chapter 13

Walking quickly, Willow left. Susan had read in Giles’ diaries about her killing Warren. Even though she understood Susan’s anger, it still hurt. That was the one thing she had not wanted anyone to know about…aside from everything else in her life. Now, however, Susan knew. She knew where she had come from, what she had done before coming to Kitty Hawk. It was no surprise that she had been kicked out. That did not stop it from hurting, though. 

“Red,” Spike said, coming up quickly beside her. He startled her and she jumped, nearly dropping the books in her arms. Regaining her composure, she began walking again.

“What do you want Spike,” Willow asked, trying not to be mad at him. It was not his fault, but she had no one else to lash out at.

“She doesn’t understand,” Spike said, walking beside her. He had followed her, motioning to Illyria to get the car and follow. While that might not have been the best of ideas, Spike did not want to leave Willow as she was to walk back to the banks. It would take hours and she was in no condition to be alone.

“How could she, Spike? I bet the closest thing she’s had to a crisis is a damn paper cut! Never mind vampires and demons and Hellmouths trying to suck you in. Of course she doesn’t understand!”

“Didn’t mean it like that, pet,” Spike said softly. He knew what she was doing, turning her pain to anger. He had done that countless times himself. Therefore, he took it. He bore the brunt of her anger. It was all he could do.

“I know,” Willow said softly.

They walked together, side by side, down the deserted and dark road. Spike heard the car behind them and walked Willow to the side of the road and waited as Illyria pulled up beside them.

“Want a ride home?” Spike asked. Willow nodded and they climbed in, Illyria moving so that Spike could take the wheel. 

Spike kept an eye on Willow the entire way back to _Igneous_. She did not say anything, just looked out the window, quietly fondling the edges of the books in her arms. The silence dragged on, punctuated only by the turn signal whenever it was used. It was deafening. Spike couldn’t help but think that just dropping Willow off would be a bad idea, but he couldn’t enter her home without her permission, and without an invitation, he would have no choice but to leave her be.

Finally, Spike pulled up to the shop and cut the engine, jarring Willow out of her thoughts. Before she could open the door, Spike was there and helping her out of the back seat.

“Home sweet home,” Spike said. Standing there, they looked at each other, each seeing something they’d not seen before. A compassionate person, a caring person. Spike had known Willow was sympathetic and such, but never directly towards him.

“Thank you, Spike,” Willow said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. She watched as Spike’s eyes drifted shut and backed away, quickly letting herself into the shop.

Opening his eyes, Spike watched the door close and listened as Willow made her way through the darkened shop to her apartment. The warmth of her kiss faded fast in the brisk air of the night and he silently mourned the loss. Turning, Spike got back in the car and started it up.

“Our mission has been completed,” Illyria stated, watching the vampire with curiosity. She knew that he wanted to follow the witch into the shop, but he did not pressed it. 

“Yeah,” Spike said, an edge of disappointment in his voice. 

“It is time to…go to the bloody four corners?” Illyria asked, quoting Spike. 

“’Spose so.”

“Why do you not go to her?”

“What?”

“Why do you not go to her?” Illyria repeated. “It is illogical that you let her actions dictate yours. It did not seem that she was averse to your presence.”

“She’s got a life ‘ere,” Spike said.

“A life which has been compromised.”

“Can’t just go in an’ make myself at home.”

“So take her elsewhere where you may do such a thing.”

“An’ who’s to say she would?”

“Who is to say she would not?”

Sighing, Spike lit up a cigarette and glared at Illyria. However, he had to admit that, once again, she had a point…no matter how much he hated that fact. He could have sworn that he had seen a cocky expression on her face as he got out of the car and walked up to the door of Willow’s little shop.

Before he could even knock, the door opened and Willow stood bathed in light from the street, the store dark behind her. 

“Hi,” Willow said.

“’Ello,” Spike responded. “Mind if I?” He motioned past her and she moved.

“Come in, Spike.”

 

~END~


End file.
